Art of Peace
by dauphinemarielouise
Summary: After the final battle Harry and Draco struggle with the wizarding world's shifting meanings of peace and love as part of  post-war society. The path of true love never did run smooth, especially for two soul mates living in different  countries EWE
1. Chapter 1

_They're ready, my lady._

_My dear child, they are _not.

_But my lady, you said that they are soul mates . . ._

_Oh, of course, my child._

_But if not now . . ._

_They'll meet again now, but it won't _**be** _now. Watch._

* * *

><p>In the beginning there was nothing. Or that was how it felt? Have you ever seen the end of your life? Not the end of your world- your paltry miserable little world- not the end of an affair, or the end of a school year, not the end of a marriage, or a good friendship, or even the loss of your career or wealth. To Draco it was the loss of everything. He sat in his bedroom, the bedroom where Death Eaters had tried to proposition him, where his mother had tried to protect him, and stared at the char marks in the embossed wallpaper. Every little family crest had char marks and every alternating <em>Torjours Pur<em> had been stuck with a wand blow, as if a fatal blow.

Now there was nothing to do, but wait.

Mother was gone. To France. Last night she had packed a valise and has rushed into Draco's bedroom while he waited- he could no longer sleep anymore- and shook his bony shoulder.

"They will come in the morning," Mother commanded and like in other things, Mother was often right. "Pack your school trunk- make sure to take anything valuable that they will not miss. There will be lists, Draco. I believe they will make an auction of the home."

Draco stood and looked over the garden. The peacocks were gone- killed either by the trampling Aurors or the madness of the Death Eaters. The flower beds had been torn up from their roots and the lovely Grecian ruins placed there by his great-Aunt Araminita over two centuries ago had been hexed and cursed and multilated until they were cinders and dust. There was nothing left of the pond were as a child his nanny had pushed him along in a tiny blue boat so that he could watch the koi fish that Father had imported especially from Japan on a business trip.

There was nothing left.

It came to him as though a stomach ailment, a twisting of pride that starting low in his gut, but worked itself up to his head. He was _not_ leaving. Someone had to stay, and answer for his family, and someone had to be the last bastion of some tradition that meant nothing to this idiotic new world anymore. Draco Malfoy would be the last Malfoy, and the world would shape him probably as much as he'd shape the world, but at least he'd be around to see it. There were times where one had to do something and not just flee and cower and wait.

"I'm not going, Mother," he said as evenly as possible.

Mother walked over to him very slowly- she had jewels shown into her mink cloak. "I knew you wouldn't," she said with pride. "I may never see you again."

"No," Draco responded, biting down his tears. He looked at his mother- his beautiful, mad mother who had defied a Dark Lord and was now fleeing her decaying Manor in the middle of the night with a tiara under her armpit. "I hope you will write to me occasionally and tell me how you get on."

Mother bobbed her head. "Of course," she nodded. "Mind you do not let the courts get the upper hand. Your father would have better advice for you but-"

Father had taken an overdose of laudanum following the final battle. Mother had found him asleep in his favorite embroidered jacket, the tassels covered in the stench. It had taken Draco and Mother together to move his body with a lightening charm and very steady wand motions to the mausoleum. Draco still saw him in his dreams-his fair hair, fairer than Draco's, splayed on the little golden pillow on the chaise lounge, his eyes looking emptily into the future.

"Yes," Draco said shortly. There was no need to talk about that.

"Farewell, my love," Mother had said, and she was gone.

And now Draco was waiting.

They would come today, he was sure.

His family was too important. Draco wasn't being just prideful, although there was _that_. Once someone entertained the Dark Lord in his home, whether willingly or unwillingly, there was the certain expectation that one knew information. Draco snorted to himself. He wondered how much he was supposed to know when he had had to go to the bathroom in his grandmother Callista's Ming vase more than once because they had locked him in his bedroom for several hours and then he had had to banish away the mess. As soon as the war had ended Draco had thrown that vase across the room, and if he _ever _saw a miserable example of priceless Chinese pottery again he'd have a anxiety attack.

A crash came from below, and Grandfather Abraxas started shouting.

Draco winced. It had begun.

The Auror who broken into his bedrooms was painfully young. He looked as though he had just passed his examination. His robes looked too loose on him, as though he'd borrowed them from someone else, or had stolen them. For a moment Draco felt the uncomfortable stirrings of sympathy- the poor idiot couldn't be a year or two older than he was- and this was the grand new post-war world? Draco snorted.

"If I was going to run," he drawled to the Auror who was brandishing a shaking wand. "I would have left during the lovely two day grace period you lot gave me. Plus, I've been using my grandfather's wand and as you can tell from down below, he isn't exactly a jolly old chap, is he?"

The Auror's mouth twitched. Under less life or death circumstances Draco would have admired his dark curling hair and light blue eyes, but as it was he was just another one of _them_ determined to extract something from him that they couldn't have, like squeezing so much juice from an orange.

Loud feet bounded up the stairs and a bulky, gruff looking man with a hardened face glared at Draco as though he was something left under his boot. Lovely. This one would be trouble.

"Draco Cygnus Abraxas Black Malfoy," the older Auror growled and Draco wondered if it was entirely necessarily that they recite his entire name like the _Empire's Encyclopedia. _"You are under arrest for the use of an unforgivable, in two counts, and the account, in one instant, of allowing undesirable and dangerous persons to enter an enclosed area where there were minor children."

Well, Draco thought, feeling the days of absence of sleep coming over him all at once, at least the Aurors weren't reciting anything he hadn't anything to do with. Thank the gods they didn't know about the times he had used _crucio_ on students at Hogwarts for the Carrows and then at home on the requests of his aunt, his father, his uncle- Draco felt the room twist and sway- suddenly it was in perfect state of tidy order as it had been when the house elves had been here.

_You must learn to enjoy pain, young Draco . . ._ a sibilant voice hissed silkily. _You must learn that sometimes torture is a gift, and it's own reward. Yes, you must. Show him, Narcissa. _

"Sir," a voice in the distance said. "Sir, I think he's quite ill."

"Bloody hell," a gruff voice replied. "What did they do to all these Death Eater kids during the war, eh?"

Draco tried to say something smart back, but the room went entirely black.

* * *

><p>There were feet walking around him, which made no sense since Mother had left days ago. Draco tried to lift his head but it felt as though it were pinned down- no, worse, it felt as though it were in a vise. It <em>ached<em> desperately, the sides of his head banging against his skull, his stomach churning with the pain. He tried again to open his eyes, but there was too much light- far too much light, someone had lit all the candles in his room and Draco was going to kill them all- but who had it been? Who would do such a thing? Draco's arms felt heavy, and his calves and legs felt as though Goyle had sat on them- as though someone was forcefully _pressing_ him into the mattress.

Someone walked past, in good shoes, the heels were almost silent, Mother often had shoes like that, she often said that only children and whores wore shoes that clomped like horses hooves.

"Malfoy, Draco," someone said clinically and sadly. "Child of two Death Eaters. Suffering from extreme malnutrition, exhaustion and exposure to two of the three Unforgivables, namely cruciatius for an extended period of time. Seventeen, and parents are no longer around- father deceased and mother fled the country."

"What is to be done?" another voice said uncertainly.

"The Aurors took his memories- quite _forcefully_ and against medical advisement, so we will keep the child under a healing _stasis _for the next two weeks. After that, it's a matter of making sure he is fed and all meals have a nutritional booster- I will be showing you interns how to brew this in the coming weeks. Hmm, wait a moment, Mediwizard Tyler-"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"The patient is due for the re-application of his _stasis _spell! Where were you?"

"Sorry Healer Cooper, but there was an accident down in receiving-"

"You do _not_ work in receiving, Tyler, you work in Critical, for _me_, is that clear? Now, demonstrate the _stasis _spell for our interns-"

After that Draco knew no more.

* * *

><p><em>Click. Click. Click. Click.<em>

Draco felt as though he was awakening from a long and very strange dream. His hands and feet felt as though they were under water, as though pressure was keeping them from moving fully in a way that was completely normal. Unlike when he had awoken before his head no longer hurt, although he felt drowsy and strange and calm-too calm. He tried to force himself to worry about the fact that he was alone, in St. Mungo's, on the date which was supposed to be his trial, but it didn't work- he calmed immediately down, and floated away on an artificial cloud of non-sensation.

_Calming Draught._

Although he had never taken it himself, even during the war, he had brewed it enough, for other people- his parent's "guests". Calming Draught was always supposed to be given under Healer's supervision as it was extremely addictive. Draco found himself fighting against the sensation and instantly feeling that much more soothed. Finally he simply gave up, whoever was his healer had obviously heard something of his past and thought that drugging him into stupefaction when he woke up might help him deal better with the post-War world.

Which would make some sense, since he had crumpled at the feet of those Aurors, Draco groaned internally, and felt another wave of calm blast him.

_Click. Click. Click. Click. _

Draco turned his head. There was a woman with caramel colored hair that fell to her shoulders in waves, her body draped in well-cut, if not expensive robes. Her wand was placed on the little table of Draco's bedside and she had out a mending basket, embroidered with prancing kittens and ponies on an endless field. Draco nearly snorted- but there was something sweet and childlike and _warm_ about something so stupidly simple that it would be like mocking a child- he simply couldn't do it anymore.

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

The witch continued to do _something_ with the yarn. Draco watched her silently. Every few moments she would drape a piece of yarn around one of the little mental sticks, twist them with a _click_ and then repeat the motion with some variation- and it would make a long horizontal row of fabric. The woman was obviously Muggle-born. Draco tried to pull on his old hatred of Muggle borns and their ilk, but instead he felt a blank emptiness, a hollow void where a twisted knotted tree had grown and borne rotten fruit. Now there was nothing, no field, no tree, no land at all. Just a witch sitting, playing with yarn like a kneazle to amuse herself. Draco smiled.

"Oh!" the witch cried, "You are _awake_! I should fetch the Healers-"

Draco tried to shake his head, but his neck felt heavy.

"Oh," she nodded. "You're right, dear, I do _despise _being poked and prodded myself- here, have some-"

The witch filled an empty glass with water and held it to Draco's mouth, cupping his chin. Draco looked at her carefully. There was something familiar about her, about the nose, and the eyes- the _grey _eyes.

Draco struggled to sit up so quickly that he nearly dropped a glass of water in his lap. The witch snorted, and patted his back with pillows gently.

"Figured it out, did you?" Her mouth was very like Mother's when she was amused.

"Yes," Draco said blankly. "Hello, Aunt Andromeda."

"Hello, Draco," Aunt Andromeda said, picking up her string and metal sticks again. "Are you upset that I'm here, child?"

"No," Draco said honestly. "I'm surprised- why- why did you come?"

"They called me," Aunt Andromeda said softly, and something inside of Draco hardened at that. "Or rather that was the reason I came the first day. I keep coming because we are all that's left of each other. If we do not look after each other, Draco, we'll simply let the war be another excuse to tear this family apart. And personally I am exhausted of trying to hate things I couldn't possibly be bothered to care about any longer."

Draco ignored the reasoning of her words and stuck out his chin. "You have your grandson, don't you?"

"And you have your mother, don't you?" Aunt Andromeda countered smoothly, not even looking up from her yarn. "I can not have a conversation with an eight-month old, and you can not have a conversation with a woman currently living in another country. Don't be such a stubborn Black child-we need each other, you and I."

Draco tried to struggle against the logic of everything his aunt was saying-but the last ebbings of the Calming Draught floated him away so that worry became almost a ridiculous notion. And deep, deep down inside of himself there was that horrible fear of being alone. Even though he had always been an only child in a rather lonely childhood he had never been alone. His father, mighty and strong and decisive had always been there to guide him and teach him, and his mother crafty and wily and clever had always been there to guide his father. But they had both left-left and now there was no one, just this one chance with a woman he'd never met, but he knew that his mother had loathed for her bad marriage.

But Narcissa Malfoy was gone, and Draco was alone.

"Alright," his said to his aunt, and sighed at the state of his vocal chords.

"Good," his aunt said briskly. "I'm going to call over whatever mediwizard you're supposed to have looking after you."

A bustling woman with a large bust and huge dark eyes smiled at Draco warmly. Somehow Draco had expected all of them to treat him warily, as that gruff Auror had- or at least not kindly. But this large-wasted mediwizard-or witch, was looking at him in the manner of a kindly mother who's child had put his hand in the biscuit tin. Draco wanted to take her wand and poke her with it.

"I'm Mediwitch Lowell," she said brightly. "I see our patient is up, isn't he?"

"Obviously," Aunt Andromeda whispered from her yarn and needles and Draco found that he was liking her more and more as time went on.

"Good," Lowell said brightly. "We're going to do a few scans and then we'll see where you are at, my dear."

Draco longed to say that where he was at was obviously right in front of her, on a cot, in hospital, but he held his tongue. The mediwitch passed her wand over him several times in a looping, easy-going manner, and finally retrieved a piece of parchment. To the parchment she added several notations in a gaudy lavender quill which she took from behind her ear, and then, finally she shook her head.

"Well," Aunt Andromeda said with a frown. "Is it bad or good? Don't just stand there looking at that slip, girl, honestly!"

Draco _really_ did like his aunt, he decided.

"Sorry, ma'am," the mediwitch said with great reverence. Draco wondered if losing your daughter and her ratty husband brought you that sort of esteem everywhere you went-and then he closed his mind to that notion. Aunt Andromeda was being nothing but kind to him, and thinking anything against her would only work firmly against his favor. She was a very decent sort of person, and she _did_ deserve respect. As for the rest-nevermind.

"He's doing much better, ma'am, " Mediwitch Lowell continued. "But he's still suffering the effects of the pensieve extraction-his mind is exhausted, ma'am. He needs plenty of rest and his muscles are-"

"What _my_ nephew needs," Aunt Andromeda said sharply. "Is some fresh air and a good brisk walk everyday with a nice, hardy meal. Which he will _not_ get sitting here laid up in bed being poked and prodded every second hour by Aurors and Healers. I'm removing my nephew from this hospital, _immediately._"

The mediwitch blinked her large eyes rapidly. "But-but the _Aurors_, ma'am-"

"My daughter was an Auror," Aunt Andromeda said with grave dignity. "I'm sure the Department is well aware of my address."

The mediwitch's eyes grew to epic proportions. Draco smothered a laugh.

"Yes ma'am," she finally said. "I'll start getting the paperwork ready, ma'am."

Aunt Andromeda relaxed comfortably back into her chair with her string and needles, once again _clicking_ away as though nothing had ever ruffled her feathers. Draco watched her silently, the way she dipped her head and the way her keen grey eyes watched everything around her for cracks she could manipulate to her own advantage was so much like Mother. But she was _not_ like Mother- Aunt Andromeda had this sense of being a tower of strength, and a bit of a fortress.

Aunt Andromeda leaned over and patted Draco's hand warmly, her eyes shining with kindness. "It will be alright," she said softly. "We'll be fine, darling boy."

Draco turned away slightly, swallowing the knot in his throat painfully.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

_Ah-Choo!_

"Merlin, sorry Ron," Hermione blushed, pointing her wand in the opposite direction as they made their way through the attic of Grimmauld Place. Ron waved her off as his face turned nearly as red as his hair, and his blew his nose into a handkerchief that he transfigured from an old sheet of newspapers.

"I expected there to be a lot more jewels and finery," Ginny said, waggling her fingers in front of Harry's face as he looked though some old paintings. "Weren't the Blacks supposed to be old money?"

"All the jewels are in the vault," Harry grunted. He did _not_ want to talk about that- especially with Ginny. It didn't feel right. The objects in here had been left to him by Sirius and he didn't feel they should be joked about, or toyed with- they had belonged to his family, and no matter how misguided or foolish that family was, in the end some of them had ended up choosing the right path. Harry thought that ought to be respected by the people who survived the war-_not_ talked about as though Harry had won a bloody lottery and was picking through his prizes.

The reason Harry was even clearing up Grimmauld Place was so he could have somewhere to bring Teddy on the weekends _if _he decided to go back to Hogwarts. That was still a big _if_, however. Harry just didn't see the point anymore at playing a child when he had seen what he'd seen and done what he'd done. Pretending to be a seventh year was all well and good for Ron and Hermione- they had each other for Hogsmeade weekends, and Yule Balls, and cuddling by the fire. Harry and Ginny were a void as big a blasting hex- and even though Harry knew Ginny wanted him to go back and pretend everything was normal, the truth of it was he felt as though he was living a pantomime.

"Wow," Ron said to Hermione, "He looks just like Malfoy, doesn't he?"

Harry flinched up. "Who does?"

"Regulus Black, mate," Ron said, gesturing to a huge canvas stacked behind a pile of other canvases. "He doesn't have much to say, but he looks _just _like Malfoy."

Harry made his way over the case of cultery and Sirius' old school trunk to the painting of Regulus Black. He did look surprising like Malfoy- his hair was caramel colored instead of Malfoy's pale blond and his eyes were a shade or two more of a darker grey while Malfoy's were more of a dove grey, but it was an uncanny likeness. Regulus Black had the same haughty, haunted expression in his eyes that Malfoy seemed to carry all through sixth year- that awful look of being hunted. His mouth was twisted in the same way Malfoy's did when he was worried-slightly to the left, and drooping down. It made Harry feel uncomfortable to look at it- as though he were being judged and found unworthy by the heroes that came before him. He looked away.

"Oh look!" Hermione cried happily. "Look whom I've found!"

It was a photograph of Mrs. Tonks, but she was a young girl, maybe nine or ten, sitting in a garden. She was wearing frilly, puffy robes and her hair was bunched up on the side of her head. She looked cute, and soft and sweet, things that Harry could never associate with Mrs. Tonks now.

"Our little Andromeda," Hermione said, reading the back. "Isn't that lovely, Harry? I think you should go to Kent and give it to her."

Harry imagined handing over the photograph to Mrs. Tonks. What could he say? _I found this photo taken by your parents who disowned you?_ Harry picked it up gently. Would Mrs. Tonks even want to see it? He had wanted every picture of his parents he could find but they had loved him-Mrs. Tonks' family had only wanted her as far as she was a reflection of themselves.

"Harry doesn't want to go," Ginny said firmly, and suddenly the attic felt far too close. Now he wanted to go more than ever, although he had no idea what to say to Mrs. Tonks under the circumstances.

"I'm sure Harry can make up his own mind," Hermione said primly, and Harry wanted to scream. Ron looked over at Harry sympathetically but also with a hint of _I don't envy you one mite right now, mate._

"I need some air," Harry said, making his way down the ladder and out of the attic. The sitting room of Grimmauld Place was much tidier thanks to their efforts during the summer hols-well what for Ron and Hermione was the summer hols. The sitting room had a fresh coat of paint, and the furniture had been reupholstered as well, and Hermione had chosen a nice little brown rug to place in front of the hearth. The kitchens and two of the bedrooms had been tidied up, and if they could make their way through the attic without killing each other Harry was sure he'd eventually have a livable home.

Someone came down the steps. Harry prayed it wasn't Ginny, and shamed himself for being so cruel to her at the same time. It wasn't.

"Hey," Ron said. "They're rowing like two wet kneazles up there."

Harry winced at the analogy. "Sorry, Ron."

Ron shrugged. "Makes my life interesting. You're the one with the problems, mate. When are you going to tell Gin that it's over? _And_ when are you going to Hermione that you're not going back to Hogwarts, Harry?"

"I'm working on it," Harry said, but even to his own ears it sounded flat and lame.

Ron looked at the little brown rug as though contemplating something. "Remember how we lived in a tent and we never knew what would be next? We were sort of always on high, always keyed up and something always meant _something_ like life had a grand purpose?"

"Yeah," Harry said, not without some wistfulness.

Ron gave a little shrug. "It's over, mate. Now sort out your muck, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry laughed.

Harry sat down in the Weasley's back garden beside Ginny. Her hair was pulled up away from her face in a messy knot and she looked radiant in the moonlight, her soft white freckled skin brightened by the moon's glow. But he did not love her. He almost could love her- in fact Harry had thought that for a long time if he worked harder at it or treated her better they could fall in love, like pushing a boulder off a cliff. But for Harry, it was never going to happen. Something in his makeup was missing- he could see her, notice her, and be moved by her, but he couldn't love Ginny Weasley.

"It's a nice night," Ginny said carelessly, a little _too_ carelessly. Sometimes Harry wondered if women had a touch of the sight. It seemed like Ginny did anyway- her whole body seemed tense, even in the moonlight.

"Ginny," Harry said firmly. "I've got to talk to you-"

"Let's not talk," Ginny said nervously, pressing her shoulder into Harry's. "Let's just _be_ together, yeah?"

Harry winced. Lying to Ginny had been wrong-lying to Ginny and then sleeping with her had been his lowest point after the war. He swore to himself everyday _never_ to sink so abominably low again.

"Ginny," he said, getting up and putting some space between their bodies. "We really do need to talk."

"Oh," Ginny said wryly, her mouth twisting to one side. "Is it that talk _again_, Harry? You're starting to sound like the little wizard who cried grim."

Now that really did piss him off. Last time there had been a perfectly good reason that Harry could not be with Ginny-the war. He couldn't make her into a target for Voldemort and expect himself to sleep at night, even if he didn't care about her (and he cared, not loved her) she was Ron's sister, and she was an old friend, and he was a friend of her families'- it wasn't _right_ to risk Ginny in a war like that. He did care about her. Now the problem was that caring did not suddenly evolve into love and Ginny was treating it as another of her bleeding jokes and Harry was well tired of being the punchline.

"It's not going to work out, Gin," Harry said reasonably, or what he thought was a reasonable matter. "I'm sorry. This time there's no war, no nothing- just me."

"It could work, you know," Ginny said, her voice a trifle desperate. "It _could_, Harry. You know that we-"

Harry shook his head. "I thought so too, but- no. No."

"So you _lied_ to me?" Ginny hissed, her face twisted and made ugly by pain. "When you said what you did that night- you _lied-_didn't you?" And when Harry didn't answer, she shouted. "_Didn't _you!" Harry looked away. "I'm sorry, Ginny."

The slap hurt, but he deserved it, and much more.

Hermione came by Grimmauld Place the next day.

She didn't say anything at first, she simply cleared out the grate with her wand, and washed up the dishes in the sink by hand. She took in the newspapers, and fed the new barn owl Harry had gotten, and found some toast somewhere and toasted it with one of the cooking spells she had learned during the war. Harry watched her idly. She was better at them now-she hardly ever burned anything, and she rarely left anything undercooked either. Ron would have a good little wife-Harry smirked to himself, imaging the impossibility of Hermione sitting at fire and waiting for Ron to come through the door.

_Honey, I'm home!_

No, that had been Harry's dream, not Ron or Hermione's.

He'd always wanted a marriage like one right off the telly- a pretty wife and a few kids, a wife who'd love children and babies and would be a secretary or a nurse and Harry would be a policeman or join the fire brigade. Something very heroic. Harry sighed. Heroism was highly overrated and all it had gotten him so far was a bunch of psychopaths following his every move in the papers, and the loss of some of his rather stupid childish dreams. Harry stared into the tea Hermione plunked in front of him.

"You're being very stupid," Hermione said curtly, taking the seat across from him. "Ginny says you told her you don't even love her."

"And whatever Ginny says is right," Harry groused, picking up his toast stuffing a rather large chunk of it into his mouth.

"Oh honestly," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I could have predicted this breakup down to the hour without using runes. You and Ginny don't suit- she's a very silly girl still, and I daresay she'll probably stay one the rest of her life. Whoever marries you will have to present to you a challenge while still being a rather conventional sort of person-and I wish them a lot of luck."

Harry snorted. "If only there were two Hermiones in the world."

Hermione blushed. "Flatterer-don't let Ron hear you saying that. But I didn't think you'd be so broken up about this, Harry. Honestly, I thought you'd be relieved."

"I thought I would be too," Harry said, speaking frankly about his and Ginny's relationship for the first time. "I always felt as though I had to watch my step around her, you know? Since she was Ron's sister and the family and all that. But now I do feel relieved. But Hermione, we've got to talk."

"What about?" Hermione said kindly, her curly hair resting on her hand as she leaned her head. "You not going to Hogwarts?"

Harry sat back in shock. "How did you know?"

Hermione smiled, a little sadly. "I didn't- this was sort of an educated guess. The date to reply for 'eighth year' admissions was last week and you didn't tell me or Ron anything about it. Back then I thought it was because you were having so much trouble with Ginny and all that nonsense that you were distracted. But you haven't mentioned it since then, so I figured you were either planning on not coming and afraid of disappointing us or you hadn't made up your mind. So I guess you have, then."

"Yeah," Harry said, uncomfortably. "Sorry."

Hermione shook her head, standing up and refilling the kettle. "It's your decision, Harry. I could go on and on until I'm blue in the face about why education is the gateway to a better life but in the end it's _your_ life, not mine or Ron's or anyone else's. I would love for you to go back to Hogwarts with us, but mostly because I'll miss you, not because I think we're going to be learning much of anything this year."

"Then _why_ are you going, Hermione?" Harry asked. "Why not just go off and get a job at the Ministry or some private company?"

Hermione just grinned. "Because we're just the two back up mates-and I'm not quite ready yet to spread my wings and leave Hogwarts."

Harry watched them go, in the rain. It felt as though the whole world was in mourning, as Ron and Hermione and even Ginny left. Not that Ginny was saying much of anything to him, still- just yes and no and only if he asked her a direct question. Harry didn't care- he still wished Ginny the best. Ron and Hermione- half of him wished he was on that train and the other half wished they were off of it with him, standing on the platform, and waving goodbye to Ginny. But it wasn't fair to hold them back, anymore than it was fair for him to hold himself back and go back to that school just for a packet full of memories.

Harry made his way back to Grimmauld Place, taking the Underground so that the trip take even longer than usual-pulling out the last moments before the boredom would set in. He dropped his wet cloak in the bath-the charm had run out somewhere along his walk - and how Hermione would yell at him for doing that, and sat down with a cup of tea and the tin of biscuits that Mrs. Weasley had brought by last month.

After about five minutes, Harry put on the wireless- there was a game on, the Magpies were playing the Cannons. Harry changed the station to the news. There really wasn't any news, not anymore-the world was at peace, and even if there was a break in or a man caught stealing from his mother-in-law's vaults it wasn't so much news as the bits of gossip people comforted themselves with to show that we were all still alive in the aftermath of the war.

Harry sighed. Outside it was still raining cauldrons.

He wondered vaguely how many of his friends had gone back to Hogwarts and how many hadn't-Neville hadn't, he'd gotten a placement with a greenhouse in the north somewhere, and neither had Dean Thomas-his mum had fallen ill and Dean was staying with her, nearby a Muggle hospital, somewhere here-in London.

Harry sank down into the sofa again when a rather hard slip of paper poked him. It was the photograph of Mrs. Tonks as a child.

Harry grinned-that's exactly what he'd do-visit Teddy and Mrs. Tonks.

There was a sweet little bramble path that led the way to Mrs. Tonks' cottage, alone with a soft smooth stone road. Mrs. Tonks had told him once that it had been in Ted's-that would be the first Ted's-family for years, the cottage, and Harry could see why. It was spacious and warm looking, built with large grey stones that had sunk with time into the mossy earth. The windows were square with slightly rounded edges and the window at the apex by the roof rather reminded Harry of a ship's helm. Harry always imagined it when apparating to Mrs. Tonk's cottage, and sometimes he imagined someone sitting up at the window, driving the cottage away.

Mrs. Tonks would _not_ find that amusing.

Harry knocked twice on the door. It took a long moment before Mrs. Tonks opened the door, and Harry had the odd feeling he had been watched for all of that time.

Finally, Mrs. Tonks opened the door.

"Harry," Mrs. Tonks said without her usual smile. "I wish you would have wrote to me first, you see I'm quite busy today."

"I'm sorry," Harry responded, feeling quite put out. He had never written before and that had never seem to bother Mrs. Tonks in the slightest. Did she have guests over? "I can go-"

"No," Mrs. Tonks sighed. "You may as well come in as you've come all this way. Come along inside."

Inside was a very warm living area done in blues and cremes-there was a sitting room connected directly to as kitchen with a very small dining area, all within the same space. Mrs. Tonks had a caldron bubbling over her gas range, and her telly was playing the oldies film _Guys and Dolls_. Harry looked down at the squashy baby's mat on the floor, and then at the high seat on the table-Teddy was not there. Perhaps he was down for his nap, and that was why Mrs. Tonks was so cross-Mrs. Weasley often said that babies were no end of trouble.

"I thought you'd be back at school," Mrs. Tonks said, placing her rather nice silver service down between them.

"No," Harry said, a little shamefacedly in front of an adult. "I thought I'd try my way in the world without going back to Hogwarts, ma'am."

Mrs. Tonks raised a tawny eyebrow. "You'll have your work cut out for you, Harry, Boy-Who-Lived or not. Though I understand your reasons for not going back there as much as anyone else-Hogwarts no longer retains its shine, shall we say."

Harry swallowed a biscuit lamely. It was hard to remember what to say and what not to say around certain people-what would make their grief feel better or what would offend them and make them feel worse. All the time Harry felt as though he were constantly putting his foot in it, or both feet, or his whole body. Sometimes he felt as though he should just get away-away from the crowds and the people and the fawning, never ceasing _kindness_.

Harry heard the sharp, piercing cry of a baby.

"I'll go," he said brightly.

"Not at all," Mrs. Tonks said commandingly. "I'll go. "

"It's alright," Harry said pleadingly. "I _want_ to go-let me-"

Harry stumbled up the squeaking stairs before Mrs. Tonks could say another word. Teddy's nursery was just down the hall, past the spare bedroom that had once been Tonks' bedroom when she was a teenager. Harry pushed open the door. The room was painted in teal with golden renderings of all the constellations painted seamlessly up the walls toward the ceiling and the down the other wall-Harry knew- he and Ron had painted it on hands and feet for hours, their wand hands shaking from their arms being held in the same position for so long.

Teddy was not in his crib. Teddy was not on the floor, and Teddy wasn't on the changing table-Harry was about to scream when the rocking chair-_rocked_.

There was a boy in the chair- a boy with caramel colored hair that fell down over his face. A baby's hand reached out and grasped it.

"I _can_ feel that you know," a drawling, irritated voice said. "I'm not entirely immune to your little greedy ways, but I do draw the line at being scalped."

"Ah-bo," Teddy responded evenly.

"Only on Thursdays, and _never_ where Aunt Andromeda can see," the voice snarked. _Aunt_ Andromeda.

"Malfoy," Harry hissed.

Malfoy stood up and slung Teddy onto his hip with ease that only came with practice. Harry didn't even have that sort of skill and he felt sick and upset and wildly jealous. Teddy went with him happily enough, his thumb in his mouth, his hair matching Malfoy's potioned concoction. Malfoy looked _horrible. _He wasn't thin, or any paler than his usual unearthly white, but his eyes were dark-circled with so many dark-rings Harry was sure one more day without sleep and his eyes would be black and blue.

"Aunt Andromeda did tell me you were Teddy's godfather," Malfoy said with false grace. "It only took you two months to come around."

"We were cleaning up the mess _your_ lot left," Harry hissed and once again he wished he could have bitten his tongue clean off. What a lie, and what a stupid thing to say.

"You want to see him? Fine," Malfoy scowled, passing Teddy gently to Harry. "He needs his nappy changed. Have at it."

A moment later a door slammed shut down the hall.

Mrs. Tonks looked in on Harry and Teddy and satisfied that the baby was well, she went into the spare room. After a long moment, which involved Harry ruining two nappies and getting the third on properly, Mrs. Tonks came in to the nursery.

"You didn't tell me _he _was here," Harry scowled as Mrs. Tonks took Teddy from him and placed him on the floor with blocks.

"_You_ did not inform me of your visit, Harry," Mrs. Tonks said with a mild rebuke. "As for the fact that my nephew is staying with me, that is a family matter, and something I would highly resent any interference in."

Harry heard her message loud and clear-_you aren't family._ Harry swallowed down his growing resentment of Malfoy. The Blacks had always had a complicated history, and he couldn't expect every family to treat him with such open arms as the Weasleys had-in good times or bad. Mrs. Tonks had been brought up in aristocratic circles and had rigid notions about everything.

"I suppose I should Floo ahead of time if I'm going to be visiting," Harry said stiffly.

Mrs. Tonks smiled. "Considering the situation, we'd very much prefer it."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Loving it? Hating it? Review it ;)_

Chapter 3:

A knock came on the door. Draco whispered _alohomora _and Aunt Andromeda slipped through the doorway, letting herself into the space made by the spell work. She did not say anything, but like every night, she picked up what Draco had learned were knitting needles, and began to work on some amorphous shape that would eventually become a tea cozy- he had asked her what it would be last night. Today he couldn't be bothered with saying a word-seeing Potter had literally made him feel sick and he had spent the afternoon while Potter was in the house staring at the blank wall, trying not to think-

_Flames, flames like molten lava licking around him. Crabbe was dead and he was next, he was next, and Potter was never going to come in time-death would actually be a mercy compared to these flames, taunting him-_

Draco blinked and the imagine faded into dust. But his whole body was a mass of anxiety again, his stomach felt as thought someone had thrown a hundred severing hexes through his abdomen, so that he'd never be able to eat or swallow or savor a thing again. A moment later he knew he'd be fine, and yet a moment after that the crack on the ceiling would look _just _like Snape's hooked nose. They would all go around and around until he was sure he was sink into the madness like a comfortable blanket or claw and fight against it and lose, lose as so many others had done during the war, and perhaps so many others were still doing, in this horrible aftermath.

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

"I'm going mad," Draco said faintly.

Aunt Andromeda laughed. "When I was a girl I was just as dramatic as you are, Draco. Everything was the impending sign of the Armageddon and I was the only one to notice any of it. It was why I ran off with my late husband-the thrill and the danger of it all, but mostly the scandal I was sure would follow. It's the Black blood, darling- if nothing is wrong, we _make_ something wrong and then we revel in it. Oh dear-I just messed up a bit here-"

Draco watched her knit. Every now and again she'd loop a string along and twist her needles around each other and watch him keenly, her eyes filled with worry. For someone who was supposed to be reassuring him, Aunt Andromeda certainly looked just as frightened as Draco did-but _only_ when she thought he wasn't looking, of course. If Draco could feel any one emotion clearly then he would feel sorry for his Aunt Andromeda, who had wanted so much to take in her nephew and recoup some of her losses during the war, but instead had only gotten the leftovers of several dozen _crucios_ and about fifteen generations of selective inbreeding.

_We are the last of the Black sisters, Aunt Bella screeched in her high pitched voice, her manic eyes gleaming. We have to stick together, Cissy!_

"You're hungry," Aunt Andromeda said firmly. "I'm going to bring you up a tray, young man, and you're going to eat it-all of it, mind you."

_Open the lid of the tray, Draco, Avery said, his perverted face twisting lasciviously. What do you see, there, boy? _

It had been a bottle of lubricant and a pair of silk pants. Draco hadn't known what Avery had meant by that-he hadn't understood words like _homosexual _or _child molester_ but by the end of the war, he'd know, and understand. Not by experience, mind-but by their screams-and by the _others_ laughter as they did what they did. That was the first night that Mother had locked him in his bedroom for hours on end-and it was certainly not the last.

Draco heard Aunt Andromeda's feet creaking on the step. He sat up quickly and looked away from the crack of Snape's nose with a scowl.

"Here," Aunt Andromeda said, and Draco nearly flinched away before he thought the better of himself. It was only a sandwich on crusty bread and a large glass of pumpkin juice. "Eat up child."

"Will you stay?" Draco tried to keep out the note of paranoia from his voice with some force, but if Aunt Andromeda heard it, she graciously paid it no attention.

"If you wouldn't mind the company," Aunt Andromeda said, turning on the wireless to her favorite evening series, something that involved a woman torn between two men. Draco thought the whole thing was utter trash-the second man was wealthier and _far_ more influential-Draco would have taken up with him, as he often told Aunt Andromeda on several occasions. Aunt Andromeda had only given a hearty chuckle and said that the audience was meant to be rooting for the sickle-less tutor.

"She's going to end up pregnant," Draco snorted. "They always end up pregnant, or dead. I do hope she dies, then she'd be silent, but I don't think so with this one."

"_Do_ be silent," Aunt Andromeda waggled her finger. "And drink up your juice-the Duke might propose this week."

Draco swallowed the pumpkin juice complacently. On the wireless the sister of the protagonist warbled on and on about how she couldn't find a man to the man who was in love with her which was supposed to be some sort of endearing case of irony but only made Draco want to fling the bloody set out the window. His eyes blurred as he stared at the wireless receiver and suddenly he felt very bogged down-very heavy-

_Dreamless Sleep._

"What was it in?" Draco tried to say, but his tongue was heavy and thick in his mouth.

"The juice," Aunt Andromeda smiled down on him, tucking in sheets around his body. "Goodnight, darling."

Draco tried to hang onto a sense of outrage and upset as he drifted off to sleep, but instead all he could feel was a bizarre sense of gratitude that once again his aunt had out Slytherin'd him.

Draco woke up and stretched underneath his aunt's mismatched sheets. Usually he'd absolutely agree with anyone who said that sleeping in your robes was not only bulky and uncomfortable but downright foolish as well, but today he felt as refreshed as he hadn't felt since he had been under _stasis_ at St. Mungo's for post-War injuries. From that date he had sworn to himself that he would never take another medicinal potion or see another Healer, but the chances of that happening were increasingly becoming less and less likely. He felt as though he was a piece of pottery that had been badly _reparo'd_-from far away he looked as he should, but put a bit of water in him and he began to leak, and rather badly.

Draco felt as though he was leaking all the time now.

Draco came down stairs. In the poky little dining room, Teddy was eating his oatmeal and getting more in his bright-blue hair than in his actual mouth. Draco stuck a finger in it and satisfied that it wasn't too hot, he took the seat next to Teddy and wiped his face clean-Teddy tended to cry unendingly if hit with a _scourgify_.

"Where's your grandmother, Lupin?" Draco asked, pouring himself some tea.

"Po," Teddy said seriously, sticking a fistful of oatmeal in his mouth.

"Ah, she probably is checking the post," Draco agreed, smiling despite himself at Teddy's little oatmeal covered face. Teddy was a sweet baby-which meant he didn't have many baby traits. He slept all night, he played quietly with his soft toys, although he responded quite happily if Draco came along and squeaked this or levitated that for a few minutes. Precious little upset Teddy other than being hit with spells he didn't specifically request, or when someone took his thumb out of his mouth just as he was falling off to sleep during naptime.

"Carp," Teddy said, or something astonishingly close. He motioned as though he was going to put his now-blond head into the bowl and Draco quickly _accio_'d it out of the way.

"I'll feed you," Draco scowled, "My little chameleon cousin changes his spots _far_ too often as far as I'm concerned."

Teddy grinned toothlessly in agreement-he had cut a few teeth, but none had actually made the full trip out of his gums yet. Taking advantage of the fact that his mouth was open, Draco slid in a mouthful of oatmeal. If Teddy minded the deception, he didn't show it-he simply danced along to one of the wireless jingles in his seat.

Aunt Andromeda came down the stairs, a basket under her arm.

"Ah, Draco," she nodded. "You're awake-I went to go get the post-the wizarding one not the Muggle one, and I was waylaid by two of my Muggle neighbors. I had to go around the back of the house and apparate up into the attic and come back in again."

Draco laughed. "Did you get the post?"

"No," Aunt Andromeda huffed. "I shall have to exit again-I only wanted to make sure you were awake-I couldn't leave Teddy alone that long. Is he eating?"

"Very well and with a certain _panache_," Draco drawled as Teddy dribbled some of his oatmeal down his tiny shirt.

A few moments later Aunt Andromeda returned. Her face was bone white and in her hand she was holding a letter. Draco wondered with some trepidation if it was from his mother. She hadn't written him, not that he had expected her to-perhaps she thought that he was in Azkaban or in some type of holding cell right now, or perhaps she was merely biding her own time before replying. Draco didn't know what to think of her anymore-on one hand she had worked relentlessly to save his life, on the other she had constantly risked it. On one hand she had spoiled and coddled him since his infancy, on the other she had left him in danger in the madness of post-War England without another world.

_A constant, my Draco, high up in the sky, Mother sang. Sparkling and perfect, where only the gods fly-_

"Drooble," Teddy said firmly, shattering Draco from his thoughts.

"What's that in your hand, Aunt?" Draco asked in a steady a voice as he could muster, Teddy's baby spoon shaking so badly in his hand that he placed it back down on the little high chair before Aunt Andromeda got any closer.

"It's addressed to you," Aunt Andromeda said, her voice sounding stuffed.

Draco opened the seal.

_Dear Sir-_

_Your presence is requested at a Specialized Meeting of the Wizengamot (type: Closed Court) to discuss your involvement with the War and the personage referred to as Tom Riddle, this upcoming Thursday the 11th of October at 9 am. Please kindly arrive fifteen minutes early. No solictiaton or type of legal advisement will be needed at this hearing. _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Frederica Tallwater_

_Legal Witch-Level II_

Draco read through the letter again. It wasn't a court hearing-in fact the letter specifically stated that he was not to bring any sort of legal team to the hearing whatsoever. Which meant one of two things-the first, and entirely more probably one was that they had decided to hold him on some trumped-up charges having to do with the war, and had manipulated his memories to make him seem more culpable with events that he had witnessed. Draco swallowed briefly, imagining just _how_ the courts could manipulate his memories to make him seem like the guilty party in those instances. The other, and less-likely Gryffindor version, was that they had taken his memories, gone through them, and were going to miraculously acquit him of all charges.

Which was so absurd that it was practically hysterical.

_Never trust the Wizengamot, Father said. Unless you have brought all the seats._

"May I see it?" Aunt Andromeda asked. Draco handed her the letter.

"Certainly," he said with forced carelessness that sounded shaky to his own ears. "If you'll excuse me."

Draco forced himself to walk and not to run up the stairs, but the more it seemed as though he forced himself to be and to act a certain way lately the more his traitorous mind rebelled, sending flashes of the past-his _other_ Aunt was over him, laughing, as they _imperio'd _him to sing along to bawdy songs- his father was stripped of his wand- he _knew_ it was Potter and yet he was saying nothing at all-Lovegood and Thomas were being held in the dungeons and Montagu was stroking her hair and cackling and Avery was egging him on-

Draco blinked. There was water on the floor. He didn't even remember getting upstairs to the bathroom but he had turned on the sink and had soaked his robes clean through. Tiredly, Draco sat down in the puddle of water and closed his eyes, not even bothering with a drying spell or a cleaning charm. Sooner or later his aunt was going to realize the extent of his _malady_ and he'd be put away, as his fifth cousin Gertrude had been.

He had thought his parents cowards for killing themselves and for fleeing England, but living took a great deal more courage than he was prepared to deliver.

The day for his court date was sunny and bright. Draco highly resented the sunlight, in fact he resented everything-even poor little Teddy's mindless warblings got on his final existing nerve. Aunt Andromeda looked at him pityingly and _that_ made it even worse- my poor nephew Draco, we must be _kind _to him, something isn't _quite _right about the boy, after all. Draco wanted to do something actually mad to show her what madness truly was-but of course they were both Blacks, and they knew madness first hand, it had been fed to them like mother's milk, from the very cradle.

This entire _world _seem to be created just for the express purpose of driving him mad. Draco twisted a limp piece of cinnamon colored piece of hair around his finger and watched it dankly resettle by his chin.

"Malfoy, Draco?" A clerk said self-importantly.

Aunt Andromeda stood up as well, but the clerk shook his head.

"No family members, ma'am," the clerk said with another bout of self-importance. "This is closed court and Mr. Malfoy is of age." Aunt Andromeda's mouth curled as though she was getting ready to state where the clerk could place his _closed court_ and just how far it could go, and Draco gave her an appreciative smirk but shook his head. Things would likely be bad enough in there without being seen as clinging to his "light" family member's apron strings.

Draco wasn't sure quite what he expected, but this wasn't it. There wasn't a judge up on a high podium, nor was there a jury, or anything to distinguish this room from the hundreds of well-appointed business suites in the inner sanctums of the Ministry that Draco had been privileged to see during his childhood. A woman walked in from the antechamber. She was dressed in the robes of a judge-and looked like the stereotype of one-tall and imposing-with a chest that looked nearly hex-proof and a mouth in a firm decisive line. Draco stood.

"Please sit," she said. "I am Justice Brownleigh, the judge overseeing this case." She withdrew a very large file held together with spellotape and a pair of reading glasses.

"Frankly, though it was well within the rights of the Aurors to extract your memories by force given the fact that we had the eyewitness accounts of more than three individuals linking you to the crimes in question, I personally disagreed wholeheartedly with those measures," Justice Brownleigh said sharply. "And as what often happens with the Aurors- when they go digging about where they shouldn't be, they've opened a nasty can of worms."

"I'm not sure I understand," Draco said.

"No," Justice Brownleigh said tiredly. "You wouldn't, would you-purebloods. You've been isolated, abused and domineered you're entire life, young Malfoy, I doubt there is a thought that's in your head that your mother and father didn't place there with the express purpose of making themselves look better."

Draco felt his lip curl, and fought hard against it. However, it seemed as though the Justice saw his general rebelliousness, if not the form it would take.

"You disagree with me," Justice Brownleigh smiled. "I'm glad-it shows you're something more in that head than just a simple little blond dolly. I hoped you would. Which is why I've decided _not_ to send you to the Juvenile Detention Center in Wales like I have with so many of your peers."

Draco sat back in his chair-_not_ to jail-_not_ to Azkaban. He felt a load lift off his shoulders and float off into the distance, never to return. He had no idea why this Justice had chosen he himself for her little pet project, but frankly he didn't care-it meant that he would be out of any type of jail and free.

"Don't rejoice just yet," the Justice admonished firmly. "You did break the law, and for that you must be punished. You will serve two years extended probation which will _not_ go on your permanent record, and you will meet with a probation counselor once a month. Additionally, I am insisting you meet with a Mental Health Healer once a week for a year, Mr. Malfoy. If you do not comply with any of these guidelines, or if you break _any_ laws _ever_ again, I will not hesitate to place you in prison for the rest of your natural existence. Is that perfectly clear?"

"Crystal," Draco nodded.

"Good," the Justice's firm face relaxed a fraction. "You will take this file, and your first probation meeting will be next month, and your first Healer's appointment next week. Use your magic wisely from now on, Draco Malfoy. You'll not be able to answer to anyone but the law and Merlin if you don't."

Despite the urge to snort or say something sarcastic Draco felt a tingle of profoundness come from the Justice's words. He had no idea why-the lack of sleep, the constant stress or madness that seemed to circle his life-but the _manner_ in which Justice Brownleigh spoke to him-as though he was not a criminal, but a misguided child who had been caught up in things far beyond his control- made him feel a funny sort of poignancy. If he had been a hopeful person he'd have thought it a new beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hey Lea, to answer your q I'll most likely finish this up by the Thanksgiving break as I'm going away, my work load this semester is pretty light which is why I can post two stories at once and not be overwhelmed but next semester I'll have a really busy one so neither of them will carry over for sure. Both are completely written it's just the matter of posting at the moment. Thanks for your review and everyone else if you have questions comments or just want to ask where I'm going with all this, feel free to ask :D_

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><p>Chapter 4:<p>

Harry was _bored._

Now that hindsight was twenty-twenty and all that rot, he could see he should have really gone back to Hogwarts. But by now half the year had gone by and he couldn't go back there any more than he could go back in time, now that the time turners had all been destroyed. But if he knew what he did now, he would have gone. His reasons for going still made sense though-he didn't want to go back because it didn't make any bloody sense to go back when you're meant to be going _forward_ after winning a war. The only problem with that whole logic was that people weren't meant to be fighting in wars at seventeen at all.

At first Harry had had a lot to occupy his time. He'd finished up Grimmauld Place-Neville had helped him on his weekends off from the Yorkshire Greenhouses where he worked, and then afterward they had gone out for a pint or three and talked about the good old (pre-war) days. But that didn't last very long because for one Neville had a job and was meant to be there from Monday to Friday and occasionally a few weekends as well, and also with two people working on the house and the assistance of magic, Grimmauld Place fixed itself up really very quickly.

So then Harry decided to visit Teddy. Of course he had had to write first-Andromeda _still_ had Malfoy living with her, doing Merlin knew what since he didn't go back to Hogwarts either. But Harry always banished that thought from his head, because he really couldn't be in a position to judge. It was just that he bloody _disliked_ Malfoy so much. Not that Malfoy was ever around any of the mornings that Andromeda had given him permission to visit-Harry sometimes wondered where Malfoy went off to as he played with Teddy-so many of Malfoy's friends were now imprisoned, dead or back in Hogwarts.

Harry often thought about visiting Ron and Hermione on a Hogsmeade weekend-but he _couldn't_. He couldn't stand making it seem as though he was worse-off or doing badly, and he didn't want anyone to worry about him-it was the same reason he didn't visit Mr. and Mrs. Weasley _nearly _as much as he would have liked to. Instead he swallowed the urge to write to Ron and Hermione more often than he did and he simply filled his letters with as much nonsense as he could possibly write, but it was increasingly becoming hard to write about nothing, over and over.

Sighing, Harry woke up for another empty day in an endless cycle of blank, empty days. He wondered if he was going to get as fat as Uncle Vernon and tried to imagine the headline _Hero Becomes Overweight and Boring_. Harry decided to visit Neville at the Greenhouses, he was fairly sure it had been a week or so since he had visited Neville and if he spaced out that visit long enough it made him look _a bit_ less desperate.

Neville was out tending to the flowers, his hands in the wet, thick earth. To Harry it was all a bit disgusting and reminded him a bit too much of his childhood and summers spent tending to Petunia's flowerbeds, but if it made Neville happy, then he was happy for him. Harry thought that Neville deserved every happiness after the war, they all did.

"Harry," Neville smiled, drinking some water from a flask. "You came to see me-is everything alright?"

Harry swallowed on the urge to groan-that was a tell-tale sign that his mates were talking to each other-it had gone from _Harry needs a rest _to _What are we going to do with Harry_? "It's alright," Harry gave the standard response and then sighed. "It's not alright."

Neville nodded. "You want to come in and have a cup of tea? My breaks about to start anyway."

Harry nodded gratefully and followed Neville indoors. Past the humid mists of the large greenhouses there was a small storefront created from a cottage that had been converted into a shop. In the upstairs area, among all the old parchment and ledgers, the gardeners and shop girls had a small tea room, complete with a small table and cupboard with permanent cooling charms where they kept their lunches from home.

Neville set the kettle to boil and in the meantime sat down on an old chair across from Harry. "So," Neville smiled cheekily. "Not enjoying the life of leisure?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'd enjoy it if there was something to enjoy," Harry tossed out. "There's nothing in it-I just sit at home all day hiding from the press, making up things to do. It's a bit like taking a holiday from real life-"

"Only real life's moved on without you," Neville said sympathetically, getting up to fetch the kettle and levitating two glasses out in front of him with ease using his non-dominant hand. The war had changed Neville so much-had transformed him from that awkward little boy Malfoy and even some of the Gryffindors had taunted to a bonafide hero and a confident wizard. Harry wished he had half of Neville's confidence right now.

"Yes," Harry said, agreeing with Neville statement as he poured out the tea. "But I can't go back now. It's halfway through the year-and with the NEWTs coming up-"

"Harry," Neville smiled. "What do _you_ want to do?"

Harry blinked. "I haven't really thought about that," he admitted. "Only about what I _didn't_ want to do."

Neville gave out a hearty chuckle. "I think you're going about it in the wrong way, if you don't mind me saying so, Harry. You know what Gran wanted me to do right after the war? She wanted me to make a tour of Italy and Greece like my father had done when he was seventeen and then ask Hannah Abbott to marry me. I'd never felt so stifled in my life. I couldn't sleep for a week after she told me that-I just kept picturing walking down the aisle and instead of seeing Hannah-there would be an Inferi under the veil. So finally I told her the truth."

"How did she take it?" Harry asked, trying to imagine Neville's dragon of a grandmother simply agreeing to disagree with him.

"Not so well," Neville snorted. "But when she saw I wasn't going to be moved, in the end she just gave up. A week ago she told me that I was _finally acting like a Longbottom. _Anyway, enough about how my Gran is the bossiest pensioner in our parish. What do you want to do, Harry? I mean as a career?"

"I wanted to be an Auror," Harry admitted. "But now it just feels like another story in the series _Harry Potter Saves the Day._"

"There were more people that day there than just you," Neville said blandly. "But it suits your personality. Dashing hero catches ten criminals-I can see it, you never did know when to quit hogging the spotlight."

"You sound like Malfoy," Harry sniffed.

"Well, even a broken clock is right twice a day as they say," Neville said sadly. "Did you hear what happened to Malfoy?"

"No," Harry said curiously. "He lives with Mrs. Tonks and Teddy though."

"Good for him," Neville said, with much more good will than Harry thought Malfoy deserved. "I'm surprised you didn't hear about it though-it's been all over the papers. Malfoy's case was brought to closed court-but someone from the Wizengamot sold their story to the _Daily Prophet. _It was serialized-all the rot that this clerk knew-but there was a bit about Malfoy. The clerk said Malfoy had been subject to _the most gross and inhumane forms of child abuse _that'd he'd seen in the post-War experience."

Harry swallowed. "I c-can't believe that," he said faintly. "His mother tried to save his life."

"And trapped him in a house with madmen, psychopaths and former prisoners," Neville snorted. "Gran had choice words to say about her, believe you me. Anyway, Harry, you should think about the Aurors. I think you'd be a good fit."

"Sure," Harry said distractedly. "Thanks, Neville."

* * *

><p>Getting a meeting with Auror Robards had been surprisingly easy-it had only taken one letter and the magic of saving the world had worked it's magic on the Ministry. Harry snorted at the piece of parchment in his pocket. There had been so many times that he had wanted to have someone in the upper echelons of the Ministry listen to a bloody word he was saying, ever since he was eleven and he was dropped off at a school in Scotland and started to learn that he should have looked that particular gift horse in the mouth. But now-now of course everyone was listening, and listening far <em>too<em> carefully-people knew his favorite foods, his perfect day, and his least favorite condiments, they were all printed with regularity by the press.

Harry got off of the lift and made his way down the hall toward the bullpen where Robards was training the trainee Aurors. To Harry's eyes none of them looked as young as he felt-on the floor a lean, strong witch grappled with a wizard about twice her weight with comparative ease, while across the room a wizard punched repeatedly into a sandbag-every time his strike rang true a little flash of blue sparks sprung from the bag.

_I want they have_, Harry thought with clarity-what they were doing, it meant something, it was a part of something, and more than that, he knew that he would enjoy it. That was where he was meant to be-maybe taking six months off hadn't been his most Hermione-like moment, but it had brought him here.

Robards blew an ear-splitting whistle. "Laps," he barked and everyone began running so quickly that Harry had a hard time telling apart the witches from the wizards.

Robards came out into the hall and clapped a meaty hand around Harry's shoulder. He nearly flew into the opposing wall. "Harry Potter," Robards greeted. "Good, good. Why don't we go into my office for a while until these idiots run themselves ragged and the smartest one finally comes and looks for me, eh?"

Harry followed Robards down the hall to the largest office. Robards office was a neat as a hat pin, with several framed photographs of two twin little girls that thankfully looked nothing like their gruff father. Harry took the leather seat closest to the door and Robards sat heavily down in his chair which reclined back with his weight but quickly righted itself-Harry thought that that was some rather impressive charm work as Robards must weigh as much as two of him.

"Harry, you don't mind if I call you Harry, eh?" Robards said, looking down at a piece of parchment with distaste before ripping it in half.

"Er-no, no, sir," Harry said lamely.

"Good, good," Robards said again. "Well. What brings you down to my bullpen, Harry? Want to try a round at dueling one of my trainees-I bet that would shake them up a little, they've grown fat and lazy lately."

Harry thought that Robards' trainees looked anything but fat and lazy, but he also knew that telling Robards that would probably not work in his favor.

"No, sir," Harry said, struggling for the words to ask Robards to consider his application. He already could see that what he was asking for was highly unusual and a sign of favoritism, but Harry wanted it so badly that he couldn't think of anything else but to pull the despicable card of _Savior of the Wizarding World._

"Then I can't see what you'd want with me, lad," Robards said, not unkindly. "Is someone bothering you? The press?"

Oh, Harry felt as though he was going to be ill. "No sir," Harry said before he could lose his nerve. "I wanted to talk to you about my chances, sir. As an Auror recruit."

Robards rose from his seat, and his poor chair gave an audible _squeak_ of relief. "I'd say they'd be superb, usually," and Harry could hear the _but _coming from miles away. "But Harry I can't take on another trainee, for a multitude of reasons. One, we're in a transition government, and I can't ask Minister Shacklebot to request funds when we needs those funds for the basic maintenance and clean-up of the wizarding world. Two, the training session started six months ago, Harry, and you'll never be able to catch up, and I can't hold them back-they're needed in the field immediately."

Auror Robards turned to him sadly and held out a third finger. "Thirdly, and I _hate_ to give this reason, Harry, so don't think this is easy for me, boy-you're a security risk. Everywhere you go, the press, the wireless and gods know who else follow. You could ask me to slap a few _glamours _on you or some polyjuice, but those are fallible, and I know you're a talented wizard, but you're still a child. The only way I could use you around here would be as a clerk in dispatch and that wouldn't be the best use of your skills, Harry."

Harry swallowed around the knot of disappointment. Everything Auror Robards said made sense-he wasn't trying to be deliberately cruel or prejudiced, in fact he was so fair in his decision that he was putting the needs of the many above the need of the one, popular few. Harry still _hated _it though-he hadn't asked for this, anymore than he had asked to have that bloody prophecy be written, or for Tom Riddle to choose him over Neville. He hadn't asked for any of it, but it felt as though he was paying for it, day after day, even after everyone else had moved on peacefully.

"There now," Robards said, as though he could read the disappointment on Harry's face. "There are ways and means, my boy. Ways _and _means."

Harry had no idea what Robards meant and he told him so.

"I may be able to help you out," Robards said his eyes glinting craftily. "You just keep your chin up, lad. If you want this badly enough, you'll have it."

* * *

><p>A week passed and with every day that passed Harry was becoming more and more sure that Head Auror Robards had only told him what he had to make him feel better and himself less guilty. Not that Harry blamed him, mind, Robard's reasons <em>did<em> make as much sense to him as they had that afternoon at the Ministry. That wasn't the problem-the problem was that he was so bloody _bored_. Harry was bored with everything- himself, the day to day, being chased to apparation points, he was even bored of listening to the Quidditch recaps every afternoon.

He wanted a _life_, and he was tired of waiting for it to start.

An owl knocked on his window. Harry looked at it oddly-the only living people who knew the location of Grimmauld Place were the living members of the Order and the Black family. As there were few of either group around anymore Harry very cautiously took the letter from the bird and unraveled it.

_Harry-_

_You're wise to keep your house unplottable-I had to have the Minister post this letter for me. I wrote to an associate of mine, and told him about your skill and of course your reputation preceded you. As it is in New York City the Auror Academy takes recruits twice a year -once for a Fall/Winter Session, and once for a Spring/Summer Session. _

_There is a place waiting for you in the Spring/Summer Session if you'd like it, my lad._

_Remember, by any means necessary._

_I remain, your friend-_

_Gawain Robards._

Harry stared at the slip of parchment. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, and yet it was what he wanted most of all. How could he just _leave _England-his home, as though it were nothing at all? And yet-why _not_? What was holding him here? Ron and Hermione would understand, and he didn't have a family-at least any family that he'd acknowledge or that would acknowledge him. So why shouldn't he go-loads of other people had relocated to the States for school or work, it wasn't as though he was planning to go off and leave to a different world entirely-honestly what he had faced in the War had been more frightening than this.

So why did it feel as though leaving England was leaving something essential and important behind?"

Harry looked at the letter again.

_By any means necessary_. That odd phrase that seemed so Slytherin made all the hair on Harry's arms stand on end. If this was his dream, and it wasn't hurting anyone to peruse it, he would go after it with full force, and by any means necessary. He wanted more than anything to be an Auror and he had wanted it ever since he had been in school, and he couldn't see one logical reason why he should stay behind in London and let life pass him by while the press hounded him into a corner.

Harry wrote a thank you letter to Auror Robards asking the contact information of his friend in New York.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Much love to everyone who is watching and reviewing! You'll get two updates this week :D_

Chapter 5:

Draco stared at the landscape painting in the waiting room and rolled his eyes.

He had been going to the Mind Healer, Healer Levy for six months and he still wasn't sure what to think of the Healer himself, but at least the offices were well-appointed. When he had heard the Ministry was going to send him off to be analyzed and poked and prodded at for a year he had expected somewhere just off Knockturn with peeling paint and crying babies in the arms of women with stained robes. Instead the offices where painted what Draco assumed was supposed to be a soothing beige with scenes of the sea.

"Draco?" Healer Levy's secretary said, once again her robes were a size too small and her heels far too high to be considered to be in good taste. Draco wondered idly if Healer Levy considered her a competent receptionist or if he merely liked to stare at her breasts as they tried to struggle out of her top button.

"That'll be all," Healer Levy said smoothly and the receptionist shut the door and set the silencing spell behind them. Draco only knew that there was one because he had left to go to the bathroom in the middle of a session and the spell had broken like shattering glass the moment his hand had touched the doorknob.

"Good afternoon Draco," Healer Levy said evenly. Healer Levy was about forty or so years old, and he wore wireless glasses made of that plastic material of which Muggles were so fond. Healer Levy had lost all his hair and had blue eyes, giving him a slightly comical appearance which reminded Draco of baby photographs of Teddy. But Draco had already learned that behind the absurd appearance laid a sharp mind always waiting to pounce on any contradiction of word or thought.

"Good afternoon," Draco said biting back a sigh, and taking a seat across from Healer Levy.

"What should we do first?" Healer Levy said with a bland smile. "Do you want to tell me about your week?"

"There's nothing to tell," Draco said stiffly. There _really_ wasn't-and that was what made everything alternatively worse and more maddening.

"Alright," Healer Levy said smoothly, as though one of his questions had not been thwarted. "Shall we do the cards first?"

Draco felt his lip curl involuntarily and he bit down on it to keep from saying something. He _loathed _the cards-the black and white amorphous blobs on hard white cardboard that somehow, wickedly gave Healer Levy all sorts of insights into his personality and thought processes. At first Draco had agreed to play along because it had been better than staring at the healer antagonistically for an entire hour. But then he had found out _what_ those stupid bloody cards had been able to do, and it had been too late-he had lied, manipulated and twisted his words, but the cards had already gained their strength over him and their firm hold in these 'sessions'.

Healer Levy held up his first card. "A bat."

Another. "A fish."

"A fish?" Healer Levy asked.

Draco nodded. "We had fish when I was a child. They were from Japan, when they swam in the lake they looked a bit like that-blurry and iridescent."

Healer Levy smiled, and it looked genuine. "That must have been pleasant. Did you swim in the lake as a child, Draco?"

Draco snorted. "No, absolutely not. My parents would have never-" Draco caught sight of the dict-a-quill taking note of every word he was saying. In the beginning he had stormed and wailed against the quill, and Healer Levy had turned it off gamely-for _one_ session. After that Draco had let it go. He had learned a long time ago that fighting against an enemy with greater power than oneself only left one exhausted and without preciously needed reserves.

"Go on," Healer Levy said kindly, twisting his body so that he covered the dict-a-quill. Draco rolled his eyes-just because he didn't see it didn't mean it wasn't there, although a small part of himself felt a slight tension slide out of his shoulders.

"My parents had very strict notions of what was right and wrong behavior for a Malfoy," Draco said evenly. "Swimming was one of them. It was considered that one should only swim to get away from something dangerous."

Healer Levy laughed at that-he had a reedy thin laugh-but it was genuine. Draco found himself smiling involuntarily along with it.

"How about we move along," Healer Levy smiled mischievously. "While we are still on such a positive note. How about this card, Draco?"

"A shoe."

"Good," Healer Levy took out another card. "How about this one?"

"A circle, or a ring."

"Very well," Healer Levy took out another card. "How about this one?"

"A-" Draco's voice choked.

_"Bring in the evening's entertainment!" The Dark Lord ordered. Crabbe the Elder and Avery went down to the dungeons and when they came back up-Draco was shaking so badly he was sure that he was going to literally wet himself. It was the Muggle Studies professor-gods, he didn't even know her name, and what where they going to do to her-he looked down at his plate of food-_

_"Look up," Father hissed-"Or it will be you next, son."_

_Draco didn't look at her face-he couldn't stand to. He couldn't look in her eyes, he couldn't look and see her face. Oh gods- There was blood, so much blood, it ran like a river, it ran under their feet and under the table and how much could a witch bleed and still be screaming? Draco looked up at the chandelier-please, let it end, he chanted over and over-_

A gong. Draco snapped up.

"Drink this," Healer Levy said, holding a paper cup to Draco's shaking hand.

Healer Levy sighed when Draco did not immediately drink down the liquid. "It's just water, child. Plus I'd lose my license if I started potioning my patients against their will."

Draco took a few sips. "Thank you," he said stiffly.

Healer Levy nodded. "What word were you going to say, Draco?"

Draco stiffened so hard he was surprised he didn't transfigure into wood like the chair beneath him. "Chandelier."

"Chandelier has to do with the war," Healer Levy prodded gently.

Draco nodded-he was surprised he did that much when his urge was to fling that dict-a-quill out the window and stop off in a fit.

"Was someone hurt?" the Healer prodded again. "Someone died," Draco bit out, each word tense and stiff as though they had come through the very marrow of his being. "Someone I hadn't even liked-someone I had mocked and made fun of, and made a mockery of-and then she-she-"

Draco bowed his head. He felt as though he was either going to snap or explode. His entire body felt as though it was one coil of tension, twisting and twisting over and over and _nothing, _nothing was getting better at all. Really what was the point when everyone had died and you were still alive to see and smell and feel everything as keenly as though it had happened yesterday.

"If we were only defined by the things that were easy for us to handle, we'd lead very easy lives," Healer Levy said, handing him a tissue-and with some shock Draco realized that his face was wet from tears. As if life couldn't get any more _humiliating_.

"May I speak frankly?" Healer Levy asked, and Draco waved him along. What more could words do when he'd seen the mouth of human evil speak.

"Draco, I know you feel as though none of this is doing you a damned bit of good," the Healer said and Draco smirked. Frankly, if Healer Levy could read that, he was better at his job than Draco had given him credit for. "But you are getting better-in the time I have been seeing you, I've seen you open up and share some of the most personal information with me and I know that that has not been easy for you."

"It hasn't," Draco snarked into his wet napkin.

"No," Healer Levy said. "It hasn't. But I know you're still struggling with day to day living, and that's why I think you'd benefit from a medicinal intervention."

"Medicinal? As in hospital?" Draco felt his body tilt slightly towards the door-

"No," Healer Levy waved his arms in front of his face as a disclaimer. "Nothing so drastic. You're an eloquent, extremely intelligent young man. You simply have different needs that require you, let's say take a daily medicinal helpmate."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "So you're saying I'm mad."

Healer Levy laughed. "No, I'm saying you're distressed and tired and you need a healer's help. And I'm a healer. You're the one feeding me with lines now, and I thought you didn't like when I did that to you?"

Draco scowled and crossed his arms. "And if do I want to try this potion? Theoretically speaking, of course."

"We try it," Healer Levy said. "It takes a while to build up in your magical core, so I'd ask you to give it at least a week-and if you don't like it, you don't like it. We move on, we try something else, we try different types of therapy. But this has been very effective for what I think you have, with an over seventy percent response rate."

"Is that a good response or a bad response?" Draco muttered.

Healer Levy beamed. "Once you get well, you'd make an excellent healing researcher you know that?"

_Once you get well. _Against his will Draco found himself planting a seedling of hope for this medicinal intervention.

"I'll try it," he said.

"Good," Healer Levy said happily. "I'm so proud of you. Now, you can take this slip to your local apothecary's and it will be filled once monthly at my instructions. Do you have any questions?"

"No." _I just want to get out of here before I change my mind. _

"Well, then I'll see you in a week and we'll see how it worked."

Draco stood outside the _General Apothecary _on Old Wizarding Road in Kent for what felt like an hour, before he made up his mind to enter. The apothecary was nothing like he had anticipated, nothing like Snape's stores off his classroom at Hogwarts had been. This storefront was whitewashed and bright, with jars that were labeled neatly by a penmanship quill in hard black ink. In here nothing could hide or be mysterious or ensnare the senses as potions had for him for so many years. Which was probably all for the best as he was no longer brewing potions to impress, but taking them to-because of everything else.

There was a small brass bell behind the counter and in front of it was a neat little plaque which read _ring for service_. Draco rang.

An older wizard wearing a dragon hide smock and smelling faintly of sulfur walked smoothly up to counter. "Your slip?"

Draco handed it to him and wondered what the wizard could figure out from simply reading it-did he decide from reading Healer Levy's dict-a-quill's notations that Draco was obviously mad? Draco stuck out his chin and balled his hands into fists in his robes' pockets.

"Lithia water," the apothecary finally said, pleasantly. "I'll be right out with it."

The apothecary wasn't lying when he said that he was going to be right back out with it. Draco didn't even have a chance to brood for a moment before he had returned with a large jug of what seemed to be brackish water.

"You're to take two drams in the morning," the apothecary said, "And two at night. Mind you take the two at night when you're good and tired because it'll knock you to sleep, lad."

Draco was rather looking forward to anything which could knock him to sleep, even if it had to be another absurd potion.

As soon as he apparated within the wards of the house Aunt Andromeda came down from the nursery, a pile of dirty baby clothes under her arm. She looked at Draco curiously and when he didn't immediately divulge the contents of the bag she put her hands on her hips. "What's that?"

"A potion," Draco said, hearing the curtness in his voice and hating himself for it.

Aunt Andromeda sniffed. "What is it for, then?"

"Me," Draco said, forcing himself to be cordial. "Healer Levy said to try it for my mind."

Draco had expected an hour long tirade during which he could have commiserated with the state of urban Healers, Healers in general and the state of the Ministry. But ever since he had started going to Healer Levy, Aunt Andromeda had become surprisingly mum on the topic-Draco wasn't sure if it was because he himself had brought back the taint of the Black family madness or simply because Aunt Andromeda was all to willing to avoid an unpleasant topic, but it made Draco feel uneasy.

"Well," Aunt Andromeda said, her lips pursed. "Let's see how well this potion will work. When do you start?"

"Tonight," Draco said.

Years later Draco would refer to it as his lost weekend-rarely when he talked about it in private conversation he would say that he went to sleep on a Friday and woke up on a Tuesday, and of course people would laugh. But the thing was, he really did-his body was so tired, so exhausted from being keyed up by constant anxiety and stress and paranoia that when he was finally able to fall asleep he fell _asleep_. And unlike the sleep that he had been getting up until that point which had been light and scattered and dozy, he felt deep asleep, sinking into the mattress into perfect blissfulness. It was nothing like the sleep of _Dreamless Sleep- _it felt hearty and thick and blessedly restful.

When Draco woke up it was raining outside in heavy sheets, thick and strong, coating the glass of the window with an endless coating of water. He went down and sat on the little window seat and simply watched it. There was no one there watching him, there was no longer an observer, they had all gone, or fled. He was the only one standing, the final observer, and the world was absolutely beautiful. When the tears came it only felt natural now-he didn't feel bogged down by anger or tension or duty-he felt as though they came from a place inside himself that was dying, and Draco alone knew what it meant to lose it. Maybe he hadn't been the best person, or a good person, or made the right decisions, but those had been _his_, and they had tried to take that away.

"You're going to cry today," Draco said wiping at his nose. "And then we're never going to cry again, do you hear me?"

Draco walked into the bathroom and looked at his reflection. He saw a skinny, moderately attractive young man with potion-dyed caramel colored hair. The hair had been a form of maddening rebellion when he had first gotten to the cottage-something to make him look different, or seem different. There had been a bit of Aunt Andromeda's potion lying around and he'd asked her and she just laughed and let him have it. But now that he _felt _different the dye felt as silly as a child dressing up in her mother's robes-rather cute but entirely unnecessary. Still, Draco rather liked the color.

"Anonymous," he decided. "I've been infamous, now I'd like to be anonymous."

Down the hall, a baby cried.

"Teddy," Draco whispered, and the mirror caught a beam of a grin before he dashed down the hall.

Teddy was standing and walking now and he could say a few words, none of them very clearly, but all of them very firmly. His personal favorites seemed to be _Nana_, _my, now, ball, down, _and Draco's personal favorite-_Ayco. _He tended to intersperse everything he said with baby language still, since he wasn't yet two, but Draco thought he was the cleverest, sweetest baby in the world and bound to be the best Slytherin Hogwarts had ever seen.

"Ayco," Teddy said, taking his thumb out of his mouth and offering it to Draco, a gift he declined with a scrunched nose. "Up!"

"Yes," Draco said, picking Teddy up. "You're up, baby chameleon. Up, Up, Up."

Draco lifted Teddy higher and higher and Teddy squealed uncontrollably-he knew this what was coming-this was his favorite game after all. "Up?" Draco questioned, going up higher on tiptoes.

"Down," Teddy shouted.

"Down," Draco screamed, bending his knees and dusting Teddy's hair with the carpet, laughing as it turned from blue to red to peach. "And done." Draco proclaimed, sitting down with Teddy on his squishy mat, and handing him one of his favorite toys, a little model Harry Potter on a broom. Draco thought that the model Harry Potter was far too attractively done, as the model it was based on was a scarred git.

But oh well.

Funny. Usually he could rant for _hours_ internally about Harry Potter and all his flaws, about the world in general and it's unfairness. Instead he felt-_good_.

The potion.

Draco picked up Teddy and went down the stairs. Aunt Andromeda was sitting on the couch knitting and watching a soap. Draco rolled his eyes-when Aunt Andromeda wasn't listening to her soaps, she was watching them on her Muggle telly. Aunt Andromeda turned to him and looked at him the same way the leading ladies on her soaps did when their husbands came back from the war after being missing for several years.

"Aunt?" Draco said softly. "Are you well?"

"Are _you_?" Aunt Andromeda asked. "You've been asleep for _three _days, Draco-I was out of my mind with worry-"

Draco laughed. He wasn't worried at all, for once!

Aunt Andromeda blinked. Then she laughed as well, a rich peal.

Then Teddy laughed.

"It works?" Aunt Andromeda said, finally gasping a line out between a chuckle.

"Oh, yes," Draco snorted. "Perhaps a little _too_ well."

"It's time for your morning dose," Aunt Andromeda said and for some reason that was so hilariously funny that they all started up again.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Hey everyone, thanks for your reviews! I know a few people are worried that Harry is in New York and he won't make it back to England- Harry will in good time, and he'll visit quite a bit as well. I think war really traumatized Harry, and so he's acting out one way, and Draco went another extreme. Eventually they'll meet in the middle, don't fret. Keep reviewing and enjoy!_

Chapter 6:

"What are you doing this Beltane, Harry?" one of his fellow trainees, Laura, asked.

"Sleeping in," Harry said, inching away from Laura and her innuendo. The boys on the beat called her Leapfrog Laura because she tended to bounce from one bed to another. Harry thought that that was a bit unfair as they tossed Laura around as much as she tossed them, but that didn't make Harry any more interested in her. Ginny had tried the old _make him jealous with other blokes_ parlor trick and it didn't work for Harry. Frankly all it did was make him ill and confused.

"Why don't you sleep in at my place," Laura said, trailing an artificial nail down his shirtsleeve. Harry bit down the sense of revulsion and politely declined and Laura sauntered away as though she hadn't even been insulted.

_Merlin._

Harry didn't understand. When he'd been living in England or in Scotland the girls had been so different-Ginny for all her ways was so much like Ron and her brothers that she could have been Ron's twin like George and Fred. And Hermione was strong and assertive and clever, but not so-so _full on_. In New York girls knew what they wanted and they took it-it was an island full of bloody Slytherins. Harry constantly felt as though he was one step behind them in terms of the look, the joke and often times the punch line. Frankly, occasionally he felt he _was_ the punch line.

Harry sighed into his coffee. In America, and especially in New York everyone drank coffee. They seemed to drink it more than the English drank tea, Harry thought sometimes that they carried it around to keep their hands warm and to show off that they could buy it from x cafe which sold it at an exorbitant rate and always had very shoddy tea. It had been slow going but Harry had forced himself to get used to coffee and to tolerate all the sniping baristas around the American Congress where he took his classes in the afternoons.

"What's wrong with your face?" A girl said in a sharp accent, even sharper than the smooth tones of Laura. She was a very pretty hispanic girl but she held herself apart from the rest of their pack-there was over fifty Aurors trainees or _wips_ as everyone called them since they were wizarding cops. Everyone had thought it was funny that Harry hadn't known this seemingly common fact of life. Harry felt like he was eleven all over again-judged and found wanting.

"Nothing," Harry sighed. He had also had to get used to the fact that New Yorkers casually insulted each other as a matter of course-and continually in the midst of routine conversation. For the first week he had been there all they had said back to him was _having tea with the Queen, gov'nor? _to every bloody thing he had said. Harry only realized later on that it was a friendly form of hazing.

"Shut up, yes there is," the hispanic girl said evenly, thus proving Harry's point. "You look like someone _died_, Monty Python."

Harry laughed. "I haven't heard that one yet."

"See?" She said, tapping her chest where there was the Stars and Stripes and _not _the Union Jack. "I'm creative, that's how I do."

Harry looked down into the darkness of his coffee and sighed. "What's your name?"

"Yolanda Vazquez," she said with a grin. "None of those other _fuckers_ ever asked. You can call me Yolanda-I don't do nicknames, alright? Since we're going to be friends and whatever."

Harry blinked. He felt as though he had been chosen first by the school bully in a very complicated game of _Simon Says_. Considering the fact that being Dudley's cousin had led him through a childhood of being teased and taunted and he had left his only friends behind in England, he wasn't exactly sure how to proceed with a Stateside girl.

"I don't want _that_ from you," Yolanda said, motioning to Laura. "No offense, but you are not my type at all-scrawny white boy-no, no-but I think we both could use a friend, you know? I mean you only speak English and nobody understands you here, and half the people here are jealous because you killed some dude we don't even care about- and the other half are girls that think that because your English that means you got a lot of gold in your vault."

Harry laughed. "I do have a lot of gold though."

"Did I say you weren't my type," Yolanda said with exaggerated charm. "Because I think we could try."

Harry blushed. "Oh, go on."

Yolanda Vazquez became Harry's first American friend. Harry had always pictured his first American mate being something like Ron-someone he could go out and see a Quidditch match with, or go to a pub after training and unwind. But that was before he learned that in New York no one followed Quidditch, but both wizards and witches went to see baseball in the summer and no one _ever_ went to pubs, since there weren't any. A few sports bars existed, and even a few dive bars, but there wasn't the same pub culture that there was in England.

Harry didn't mind though. Yolanda was _smart_ not in the way that Hermione was smart, but in a new way all together. She knew exactly what material would be on their ethics exam without opening a textbook because she had a friend who had a friend who took the course last semester and gave her all the notes, which she then shared with Harry. When Harry got put up against Hamilton, the best dueler in their year, Yolanda spied on him for a week straight so that Harry could know his weak spots and get full marks. Harry thought that she was brilliant.

"Yolanda," Harry said as they sat down for lunch together. "How come I've never been by your place?"

Yolanda shrugged, but it looked a little tense to Harry's eyes. "I live in Brooklyn, Harry, and my parents aren't wizards-we don't have a Floo installed."

"Oh," Harry said lamely. He had been such utter pants at taking the subway that he'd gotten lost twice his first week, lost his first train map and had never gone on it again, staying in the came circular area that went from his apartment on the Lower East Side to the American Congress in Midtown.

"You should teach me," Harry said after a few moments. "You've lived here your whole life-if I can't learn from you then I'm hopeless."

Yolanda laughed. "Put away that charm school _shit_ that they teach all of you across the pond. I'll teach you, but I don't think we should go to my house, Harry."

"Why?" Harry asked. "If it's about you not having that much money-"

"No," Yolanda snorted. "I have a much bigger apartment than you, and it's much nicer-like all foreigners you paid for the area you're living in and not the square feet. The reason is, Harry-I have a kid."

"A kid?" Harry repeated, dumbfounded. It seemed impossible. Yolanda and Harry were the same age, and Harry was only eighteen-how could Yolanda have a child?

"Yeah," Yolanda said, her voice getting hard. "See, this is why I didn't want to tell you, I _knew_ you wouldn't understand-"

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly. "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just in shock, Yolanda, you didn't even mention it once, either. you know."

Yolanda nodded grimly. "As soon as I do mention it people tend to apparate and they stay gone, you know what I mean-even if I wasn't interested in them sexually. He was a mistake, you know? My baby-I was fifteen years old-I sat my NEWTs in a room with a bunch of convicts eight months pregnant at sixteen. People don't like to hear that kind of stuff-they want to hear that all the wips walking the beat are good, decent people who'd never break a law, ever."

"I've robbed a bank," Harry blurted out and Yolanda's finely penciled eyebrows stood up. "It was to defeat Tom Riddle-the bad guy."

"So you did something bad to get something good," Yolanda nodded. "I like the logic on that. Very New York. Why don't I pick you up this Friday-me and a few of my friends are going out to a club in the city so we can leave you back at home and you won't get lost doing your first subway runs."

"A club?" Harry repeated. Everyone in New York had these massive obsessions with nightclubs-going to them, talking about going to them, and debating which was the best one. What the pub crawl was to the English the nightclub was to the New Yorker only there was all these _rules _about going that Harry didn't quite understand. The dressing up and the dancing and the- well it was mainly those two that bothered him, actually. He had never been a good dresser or a good dancer and to live in New York you had to really look the part-or be able to fake it.

"Yeah," Yolanda said enthusiascially,"You know-_boom-da-boom_." Along with the beat she made with her mouth she flayed her arms and body side to side as though she was caught in a strobe light. Harry winced, imaging that literally happening.

"You don't dance in England?" Yolanda finally asked.

"Er-"Harry supplied. "I'm sure they do, but I'm rubbish at it."

"You'll be fine," Yolanda said bracingly.

Then a moment later she added, "If you look really stupid you can just drink some more and you won't even notice who's paying attention anymore."

Harry laughed.

The subway was amazing. Yolanda lived at one of the above-ground stations nearby Coney Island and so Harry got to see the sun set as the rickety old train came into the station. There were times that he didn't understand people's preoccupation with New York-the crowds, the yelling, the constant rush-but then sometimes the metropolis shone around him like a beacon, a warm, welcome, anonymous light. Here he wasn't Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, but another person, in the moment, making his way through the mass of city lights and steel and concrete.

"It's beautiful," Harry said, awed.

Yolanda nodded. "You get used to it, the city. But it's never not completely lovely."

Yolanda lived on the top floor of a dull grey high rise with sticky floors and the lift was out of order. Harry realized just how much he should take up Hamilton and Jones on their offer of going with him on early morning runs when he got breathless half way up the stairs and Yolanda was still going strong as if nothing was the matter. Harry thought the building was a bit cheap and horrible, not that he would say so to Yolanda, but the minute she opened the door to her flat, everything was different.

It was enormous-she was right-as least two of Harry's flats could easily fit in Yolanda's and that wasn't including the little concrete balcony that she had laid off to the side off her apartment, filled with plants and statuettes of the Virgin Mary.

A boy came out of one room. He couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve and he looked so much like Yolanda that it was clear that they were brother and sister from the first moment.

"You bringing home strays?" The boy snorted.

Yolanda cuffed him and handed him a few gold coins. "Go hang out with your friends for a while, okay? I have company."

The boy left without another word.

Harry looked at his shadow curiously.

"That's my brother, Quincy," Yolanda sighed. "He's a good kid but he's always into trouble. Now we're just waiting for my friend Tony to come and we'll all be here. You want some beer or some firewhiskey?"

Yolanda had moved toward the refigerator. In the States, without the Statute of Secrecy, wizards were supposed to _self limit _their magic. Self limiting was a theory that developed after Salem that stated that witches and wizards should use common sense around Muggles-a practice Harry thought was a bit odd, but then again the UK idea of completely seperate spheres was off as well. Anyway, in America it led to funny things like firewhiskey in a fridge and healers deciding mid-way through their career that they'd rather be doctors instead. Americans were very liberal about these things.

"Er-firewhiskey," Harry decided. The Stateside idea of _beer_ made him long for a lager at the Three Broomsticks.

Yolanda placed a series of shot glasses on a little tray and sat down with them. "Here's to not getting splinched, and here's to not poking ourselves with our own wand by the end of the night," she recited, and Harry laughed and grimaced around his first shot.

"Where's your son?" Harry asked.

"He's with my grandma for the night," Yolanda smiled. "She watches him once a week so I can go out and hopefully find a nice wizard to marry and take care of me."

Harry snorted and took another shot at the same time that Yolanda did. Though firewhiskey had never been his favorite drink on an evening off the slick burn was soothing in a familiar way. Besides all that he was still rather nervous about getting to a club and actually dancing-the little dancing he had done had been joking around in the Weasleys sitting room just after the war when everyone had been pissed out of their minds and the time he had gone to the Yule Ball fourth year and made such an arse out of himself that he rather thought he'd never dance in public again.

A buzzer rang.

"Oh," Yolanda said brightly. "That's Tony!"

Without bothering to get up a tall, lean, black man entered the flat. He was wearing jeans that looked as though they had been painted on to his body and his hair was blue and white-and it reminded Harry of when Teddy was confused by something when playing with his toys. His shirt was loose and draped over his body in a way that was strangely both feminine and masculine. It was everything that bewildered Harry about living in New York-nothing was as it seemed when you first looked at it, but everyone was blunt, everything was serious, but everything was a joke. Harry was wondering suddenly if this all was a big mistake.

"Hey," Tony said. "I had to apparate, damn N. Is this your friend from the Auror Academy?"

"Yes," Yolanda said brightly. "Harry Potter-he's famous in England for killing some bad guy. You guys should talk, I'm going to find my earrings."

Harry sighed and looked through the beaded curtain Yolanda had just walked through. He had the strange urge to follow her-but that was so childish as to be stupid.

"Don't worry," Tony laughed, taking one of the shot glasses. "I'm not going to jump you or anything-I'm not gay, I'm just an artist."

"Oh," Harry said lamely.

"Yolanda's a bit-" Tony put his hands out as though he was going to shove Harry into the sofa. "It's just her way. She likes to help people, even though she loves to pretend she doesn't give a damn. I read about you and your Voldemort, you know. Unlike Yolanda I occasionally open the International Section of the _Times._"

"Right," Harry said stiffly. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Voldemort, it was his number one reason for moving across the Atlantic, only topped by his desire to have a normal career and a normal life.

Somehow Tony figured that all out from his aura and merely nodded, wisely, and handed him another drink. "I think you need to cut loose, godsdamn. Didn't you fight that old dude since the age of ten or something?"

"Or something," Harry said grimly.

Tony grinned. "So we'll go out and have fun-enjoy life! You're only eighteen once, Harry!"

Yolanda came back out of the room a moment later, tottering on high heels, her lips painted a bright red. "I can't find those effing earrings, man! I think I left them at your house the last time we went out-oh, you and Harry are making nice, I'm so happy-"

"Shut up, and get us some more shots," Tony said and Yolanda hexed them both mildly in the back, and they both laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Love to everyone who has this story on alert or who has reviewed- I hope you're enjoying it and will review!_

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><p>Chapter 7:<p>

Draco slid down to breakfast with a wide yawn. On the wireless Aunt Andromeda had on the oldies station, which she highly resisted Draco changing until she had her second cup of tea at noon. Across from him Teddy sat in his chair and booster seat, feeding himself _Wizard Oh's _with such meticulous precision that a potion's master could not have duplticated his careful tact. Draco had his usual pumpkin juice chased with two drams of Lithia water, and then waited for Aunt Andromeda to come in from the garden and pester him about helping her to do the spring cleaning, an act which they both had actively avoided.

"Good morning," Aunt Andromeda said brightly. "Did you have breakfast?"

"Liquid breakfast," Draco sighed. "I have to go to the Ministry today-see my probation officer."

Aunt Andromeda sniffed. Unlike the rest of the wizarding world she had never seen any of what he did as a crime so much as the actions of circumstance and since he was actively getting well, she saw no reason for the Ministry to keep on with this _charade of probation_ as she called it. Frankly, Draco didn't much mind it any more. In the beginning he had kicked and screamed and wailed against it as much as he could, but he had gone because it was necessary to stay out of prison. Now his once-monthly visits were so much a part of his life that they were as normal as putting on his shoes or passing a grooming spell over his hair.

_And that is a little pathetic, Malfoy, _he chastized himself.

"Cammy Chameleon," he teased, calling Teddy by his nickname and ruffling his hair. Aunt Andromeda often said that Teddy would grow up with a complex from having so many nicknames and because of his special talents. Draco thought it was highly unlikely, in fact he thought Teddy would probably be the most well-adjusted Black to ever come out of their family in at least a century.

"Draco," Teddy sniffed, trying on a pathetic expression, and reaching up for Draco to unstrap him from his booster seat.

Aunt Andromeda rolled her eyes. "Oh no you don't," she scolded Teddy mildly. "You are to stay in that chair until you finish all your cereal and your banana and you are to let your cousin leave in peace."

"No _bana_," Teddy protested sharply, pounding on the table. He turned to Draco pleadingly. "Draco, up!"

Draco looked at Teddy and winced. He _knew_ he was a soft touch where his baby cousin was concerned and he also knew that Teddy knew it and manipulated it to his advantage. Baby Slytherin. Draco sighed and unstrapped him from the seat and handed Teddy to Aunt Andromeda.

"Draco _Black_ Malfoy," Aunt Andromeda scolded with an amused expression. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Going upstairs to look for my shoes," Draco smirked as Teddy began to wail after his fleeing figure. "I've got no time to talk, Aunty-I really am late-"

"When you get home I am going to have a serious _talk_ with you, young man," Aunt Andromeda hissed, her grey eyes darkening as Teddy began to cry after Draco in earnest.

Draco laughed behind the door of his room.

* * *

><p>Draco rushed into the lift, which was crowded as usual. That was the bloody problem with the wizarding world, everything was crowded, and everyone lived or worked within the same little box of space; shifting and bumping against each other like misfired hexes during the war. Draco shivered internally at the analogy but thankfully but his potion kicked in almost immediately and the flashbacks and tension and ill-humor which had dictated his life slid into a bizarre plain in which they existed but didn't exist-as though he were viewing them through a mirror. Draco sighed; living on medication wasn't ideal, but living <em>off<em> medication was a horror he had no desire to go back to.

"Could you press level nine please?" A familiar voice said.

_Granger._

Draco pressed the button and turned and looked at her. She looked exactly as she always had-robes too frumpy, hair too frizzy and wild, her plain face too open and kindly to be worth any real conversation. Somehow he'd expected her to have changed since the war-to look older, sleeker, more mature. But she looked the same-it was rather disappointing.

"Malfoy," Granger said evenly. "Funny seeing you here."

"Funny is not a word I'd use," Draco said wryly, thinking of the words he'd use like _inconvenience _and _shock_.

Granger was silent for a long period during which Draco hoped that she had read his distaste for her conversation and had blessedly begun to think of giant tomes she would like to read or ways to scold the Weasel or something. But it was sadly not to be. Finally, she said, "How are you doing, Malfoy?"

"I'm alive," Draco said shortly. Gods, this lift was taking far too long to get to the ninth level. Someone should really see to the charms on it.

Finally, blessedly, the doors opened on the Department of Mysteries and Granger got off, her ugly shoes clunking along as she slid past him. As she left she smiled at him at bit sympathetically, her eyes filled with something that would have once annoyed him beyond belief, but now only made him lift a shoulder in acknowledgement.

Draco called it survivor's remorse.

Thankfully there was no one except himself in the Probationary Wizengamot Offices that day. Once or twice Draco had seen a few of his father's _associates-_ people who had managed to retain some money overseas or had managed to bribe or cajole their way into lesser sentences. Draco had no desire to know what they had done to survive and thrive, especially knowing what sort of people they had been during the war. He had always looked away, his palms sweating and his mind flashing with whatever was the most gruesome recollection he could find of that person at that particular moment. But that had been before he had surrendered to the all-healing bliss of mental health care and tossed aside his free will to let his mind govern his thoughts freely.

Draco sat down on one of the booths after surrendering his wand and waited for his probation officer to call his name-depending on their workload he could be waiting any amount of time from five minutes, to one glorious summer's day-two hours in the sweltering heat _despite_ cooling charms. There were just that many criminals to book and process and keep track of. In his kinder moments Draco knew that they were understaffed and in his most impatient he despised the system with the hatred he had saved for Dumbledore and mudbloods.

"Malfoy, Draco?" Mr. Turpin said tiredly. At least today he'd only been waiting a half hour. Draco put down the three month old copy of _Witch Weekly _he'd been flicking through idly and followed Mr. Turpin into his cubicle.

As usual Mr. Turpin had out his wand, in front of himself for protection. Draco wondered idly how many times a day Mr. Turpin got rushed at by former Death Eaters.

"Good morning, Draco," Mr. Turpin said pleasantly, taking out Draco's massive file, spellotaped and bound together with Muggle rubber bands as well at this point. Every time Draco went in he was certain the file had grown a little wider and a little more imposing, as though it had consumed all the other files in the drawer around it.

"Morning," Draco said simply.

"I have our report, from your Healer, Healer Levy," Mr. Turpin said opening the file and flicking his wand to the appropriate piece of parchment, which the file obediently belched out like a fat first wife. "He says that you have made vast improvement, Draco- that you have become communicative and response, and that you take all his advice under consideration."

"I'm so glad," Draco said dryly. "How lovely."

"Isn't it just?" Turpin said happily, missing Draco's sarcasm entirely. _Hufflepuff_, Draco thought with some faint humor. "Since we are reaching the final quarter of your first year of probation, I believe it's time for you to consider what you would like to do with your life."

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Oh, dear," Mr. Turpin said, flicking through his file over and over to nearly the first page. "Was this not explained to you? As part of your probation, and in reference to subsection 2-3 of the _New Penal Codes and Allotments for Young Offenders_ in order for you to be considered as compliant with the terms of your probation you will have to successfully take and pass your NEWTs and show the ability to find and maintain gainful employment."

Draco glared at the file. "No," he hissed. "No one explained _that_ to me."

"Oh," Mr. Turpin sighed. "How unfortunate. Still, your OWL scores are extremely impressive. I'm sure you'll do _very_ well, Draco."

Draco huffed. He knew he could pass his NEWTs with relative ease-it was the finding and maintaining of a job that worried him. This was the post-War world and children of Death Eaters were certainly going to be descriminated against just as surely as the Death Eaters had wanted to discriminate against half-bloods and mudbloods. Then it hit Draco like a bolt of lightning- this was a means of showing that the Death Eater children had been non-compliant with probation, despite having been given every chance of success. Then the government could wash their hands of them, stick them in jail and say _they are just bad, they don't want to work, we tried._

"I see," Draco said stiffly. "How long do I have to do this, Mr. Turpin?"

Mr. Turpin smiled sympathetically. "By the end of your probation, Draco. Good luck."

* * *

><p>"You're very tense today, Draco," Healer Levy said.<p>

Draco stared out the window of Healer Levy's office. It was a charmed window, he knew that ever since the day he had come in after taking his first dose of Lithia water. It had been raining that day, and the window had shown a pleasant, sunny afternoon. Draco wondered if Healer Levy thought his patients didn't have the mental wherewithal to deal with a rainy day, or even an overcast one. Perhaps after hours of listening to his patients spout the same sort of nonsense the Healer himself needed the false cheer of a fake sunny day to cheer himself up.

"I am," Draco said stiffly.

Healer Levy sat down on the windowsill, blocking Draco's view from the sun. It was an old tactic he employed when he thought Draco was brooding a little too hard. Draco smiled wryly- a Healer-patient relationship sort of became like a marriage after a while, with everyone dancing the steps, even with the tune off.

"Do you want to tell me why," Healer Levy asked. "Or do you want to tell me to bugger off?"

Draco did laugh that time. "Both actually. But I suppose it's _healthier_ for me to tell you, and by the gods before you ask me I _know_ it's healthier for me to tell you. I went to see my probation officer last Thursday, I think it was. I was told that a condition of my staying out here in the real world was my ability to find and keep a job."

"I see," Healer Levy said. "And you think that this is impossible?"

"I _know_ that this is impossible," Draco snorted, crossing his arms. "What sort of person would want to hire me-my parents basically spent a decade licking the Dark Lord's boots! Aren't you the one that's always saying trust is necessary in any relationship?"

"Absolutely," Healer Levy said smoothly. "But are you not to be trusted? Or are you saying your parents' aren't?"

"Both," Draco said, relaxing his arms, "Them-Well, I would say it would depend on the person, actually."

"What do you mean?" Healer Levy prodded.

"Well," Draco drawled. "I find myself quite trustworthy, but that's because I'm myself, aren't I? But then someone who was personally injured by my father-they're never going to trust me- I'd always be suspect to them."

"Do you realize what you've just said?" Healer Levy smiled. "You just said _you_ trust yourself, Draco. That's quite profound and rather a shift from the anxiety-ridden boy who strode into my office as though he knew the price of every piece of furniture."

Draco flushed and bit his lip. "You manipulated that out of me."

Healer Levy laughed. "I most certainly did not-I didn't hold down your tongue or put you under _Imperio_. You said it because you feel it about yourself. May I ask you something, now, Draco?"

Draco lifted his shoulders. "You'll do what you must, won't you?"

"Would that I could," Healer Levy said wryly. "What would you _do_ if you could do or be whatever you like? Free of restraints or obligations-and don't be smart, young man. I mean the normal, societal jobs that every person has."

_"Stir the potion anti-clockwise," Snape said, watching carefully. _

_ "Why?" Draco asked. He had just lost his front tooth and Mother said he had developed an unfortunate tendency to lisp._

_ "Because if you don't," Snape glared, "Your dear mother will be scooping your entrails off her precious rug from Marrakesh. Fourteen times, mind you."_

_ Draco nodded seriously. Snape walked away to talk with Father but Draco kept count-he was up to thirteen, and this one would be fourteen now-_

_ "Did you finish?"_

_ "Yes," Draco said firmly, and he did not lisp._

_ Professor Snape tested the potion and gave him the merest nod of approval. "You did not fail. How utterly shocking since your father can not brew to save his life."_

_ Draco beamed._

* * *

><p><em> "And what letter is this?" Draco held up a soft white cube.<em>

_ Teddy struggled to concentrate, his hair turning from purple to a hideous tangerine color. "B." He finally declared conclusively._

_ Draco beamed._

* * *

><p>"I would teach," Draco said, shocked that he had even said the words. "But I sincerely doubt that any school would hire a former Death Eater who let more of his ilk into the most well warded and well known schools in Scotland."<p>

"Wasn't Professor Snape a teacher?" Healer Levy countered and Draco swallowed around a knot of pain.

"Snape was a spy," Draco huffed. "A skill that is no longer needed in this political climate."

Healer Levy nodded sympathetically. "We should be glad for it. But Draco, you must not limit yourself to fit the political climate, or you'd be a politican-and a most unhappy one at that. What would you do if you knew without a doubt that you could succeed-if it had been written down by a Seer somewhere and catalogued in the Department of Mysteries?"

"I wouldn't be here," Draco rolled his eyes. "I'd be off studying for my NEWTs, of course-what else?"

"Then I think you should do exactly that," Healer Levy said. "Every time you reach a blockade, systematically hex it until it is no longer in your way. But treat each step one at a time, and _don't_ create more steps than you need at a time-you mental health and your physical health won't stand it. Simply take on what you can, every day, and soon enough the runes will cast in your favor."

"That sounds far too easy," Draco said suspiciously.

"Which is why it's going to be extremely difficult," Healer Levy cast _tempus_. "With that, I'll see you next week."

* * *

><p>Draco stood outside the imposing new <em>Albus Dumbledore Library for the Arts and Sciences. <em>The library had been another one of the buildings that had been erected with full optimistic speed by the government in the feel-good months when donations were high and people's inhibitions were low regarding extreme fiscal responsibilty. Draco thought it was hideous. It was a white stone monolith that rose from the London streets as though it had been placed there by the hands of a drunken god, complete with a statue of Dumbledore sitting and reading a book in a night cap. Draco had no idea who thought it was dignified to put Dumbledore in the foyer of a building in his nightclothes, but knowing the man it had most likely been a clause in his will.

Behind the ridiculous statue of the Gryffindors' hero was a booth for the head librarian, a thin, wan looking witch with glasses so atrocious that Potter would have fallen in love with them at first sight. Draco sighed heavily.

"May I help you sir?" She asked in a nasal voice.

"I'm looking for the refences on upcoming NEWT examinations," Draco said, quelling the urge to stomp on her lenses and do them both a favor.

"Depends on the examination specifications," the witch said. "What are you taking them for?"

"Education," Draco sighed. No matter how many times he told his aunt, his therapist and his probation officer it just didn't feel _real._

"Education is the third floor," the witch said, "By the stacks. Good luck."

"Thank you," Draco tossed back. Despite her rather absurd fashion sense, he _did _need all the well-wishers he could get.

The library on the third floor looked as far different from Hogwarts as one could get. Firstly it wasn't dark and gloomy and dank-for which Draco's sanity and his eventual rheumatism was grateful-sitting around cold moist walls weren't his _thing_ anymore. There were no candles in candleabras, instead the room was lit by overhead gas lamps and the room itself was an enormous sterile white, with white bound texts in the newest fashion. It didn't take him too long to find the copies of _Knowing your NEWTs, The Future Educator's Guide to the NEWTs _and _NEWTs and Education: Specializing your Specialities._

Draco had just gotten through the chapter outlining the various ways of staggering the NEWTs in order to specialize with certain groups when someone _coughed_ above his head. Draco sniffed and rolled his eyes and went back to the line he was reading but the person insisted on clearing their throat _again._

"They do sell lozenges," Draco sighed. "Or did you need something."

"I am sorry," a girl said politely. "It's just that-are you done with that copy of _NEWTs and Education_? I'm going to meet my cousin and someone has taken the only other copy out."

"And I'm taking this one out," Draco said baldly. "So you'll have to buy a copy."

"Can't you let me borrow it for this weekend?" The girl pleaded in what was becoming a most _annoying_ manner. "It's just that I haven't got the time to buy a copy myself with my sister's wedding shower-"

Draco looked up, "Honestly I haven't got the faintest idea why you would think I care-_Bones-"_

"Malfoy," Susan Bones sighed, her prim little nose stuck up in the air. It was her, her hair was shorter now, no longer the long waves that the boys in Slytherin had raved over when they had sang tripe like _Susan Bones I'd knock Bones with Susan Bones._ Draco had never seen her allure, he never had fancied blonde witches they always put him in mind of his mother, even when he had been deluding himself into thinking that he could fancy a witch. Still he supposed she was pretty, with a regular pink and white complexion, straight nose, and now, a cap of short blonde hair.

"Your hair's different," Bones said uneasily.

Draco laughed. "So is yours. You look like I used to."

Bones smiled back as though she wasn't quite sure she should. "I'm not sure if you've just complimented me or insulted me deeply. Are you taking the NEWTs for education as well?"

"I wouldn't be reading this rot if I wasn't," Draco pushed a book toward her. "So you are as well? You didn't go back to Hogwarts?"

"No," Bones said. "My mother became a bit paranoid following the war- she sent me and my little brother to France with some family, the result of which is that I'm drastically behind. And you?"

"Behind as well," Draco said simply, leaving off all the dramatic tale of his post-War horrors.

Bones nodded as though she could gather enough from those words, and she probably could-the Boneses were well-known for being a well-connected Ministry family.

"How about I borrow this," Bones said, tapping the book on the table with her red nails, "And then we can meet up on Mondays and swot up together? What do you say?"

"Alright," Draco nodded.

That was the beginning of Draco's strange friendship with Susan Bones. At first he was certain that she was going to come and return the book, stay for some mindless chatter, and leave as soon as it was socially appropriate-but she didn't. She stayed and studied with Draco. And then they became _Draco_ and_ Susan_ and soon whoever came later brought the other pastries from the shop down the street, and not long after that Susan was coming over to Kent and playing with Teddy and listening to Aunt Andromeda's ridiculous soap programs with a very patient expression. Draco probably wouldn't admit it to anyone but the gods, Teddy and his healer, but other than Pansy, Susan was shaping up to be the best friend he had ever had.

"I'm late," Draco muttered. "And it's muffins, and don't complain you daft cow."

"Have you read the chapter on pre-Arthimancy yet?" Susan moaned, plopping her head into the table in front of them with an audible _thunk_. "I'm awful at maths-I barely got my OWL in it and I think that's only because the proctor was frightened of Dad."

Draco snorted. "You can replace it with Potions if you're any better at that. Though I doubt you are, you stupid bint."

Susan hit him with the bag of muffins. "There, now your hair's got crumbs in it. I've got to leave early today, my cousin's meeting me to take me out to lunch since I'm over my allowance again-lucky me."

"Yes," Draco rolled his eyes. "Endlessly lucky while some of us have had their family fortunes stripped of them and are now known as the poor relation."

Susan looked immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Draco, I-"

Draco just shoved her shoulder with his. "Don't-I'm only teasing you, Bleeding Heart Bones. Now, swot."

Draco had gotten up to cross-reference one of the NEWT educational questions with last year's scores when he realized someone had taken his seat. He glared, profoundly unamused at the back of the stranger's head of dark head when Susan turned to him brightly.

"Draco," she smiled. "You're here. I'd like you to meet my cousin Algernon."

_A boy in red robes that were far too big for him-black curling hair and earnest big blue eyes-the twitch of full pouting lips and a trembling smile in a bedroom that housed the ruins of everything that he once was. _Draco tilted his jaw upward and fought valiantly to hide his discomfort.

"We've met," Draco said stiffly.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Hi to my lovely wonderful readers and reviewers! You guys reviewed so much last time that I was doing that weirdo Cheshire cat smile, lol, it wasn't cute but I was happy. There was one specific reviewer who said she (or he?) loved the pacing, you really made my day. When I starting writing this I wanted to make it feel like real life, not like most fanfic which is watch them shag, you know? I wanted Harry and Draco to have real lives and real problems, some exaggerated, but some that made perfect sense. I mean everyone gets wasted sometimes and acts foolish (Harry) and everyone sometimes suffers with depression and anxiety (Draco though he'd hex you for saying it). They will be together, pretty soon, but up until then I hope you'll enjoy watching them try and feel their way around their lives. _

* * *

><p>Chapter 8:<p>

Harry slid into class beside Yolanda with a wince. His head was still splitting from going out last night with her and Tony to the _new hottest_ nightclub which name sounded something like express, but wasn't. Harry couldn't remember what it was now-he could remember much of anything after eight shots of firewhiskey, three Long Island Iced Teas and a few beers that Tony and his mates and brought them as an after-party at his flat after they all had managed to stumble up to Tony's West Village apartment at around three am. Harry was running on about four good hours of sleep, three cups of shoddy cafeteria coffee and a bagel.

"How are you?" Yolanda hissed, passing him her notes so far.

"Feel like death," Harry whispered back. "My bloody head feels as though it should be looked at by a Healer. How are you still standing-didn't you have to take Justin to daycare early this morning?"

Yolanda nodded grimly. Justin was her three year old son and when her grandmother was unable to care for him he shuttled back and forth between expensive daycare and his father-a man who was extremely unreliable and whom Yolanda didn't trust in the least. Yolanda was in school mainly because it was her dream, but also, she confided in Harry drunkenly one night because it would give her the financial freedom to take care of her son on her own, without having to rely on his father for help.

"I took some Pepper Up," Yolanda whispered back and Harry mentally slapped himself for not thinking of stopping in on the apothecary near the train station by his apartment. "I also got some for you-I figured you wouldn't have stopped for any."

"Bless you," Harry said, tossing Yolanda a bright smile which she returned by smacking him in the arm. Sometimes the mothering instinct in Yolanda shone through despite her penchant for gold robes and high heels and Harry was reminded of Mrs. Weasley in some ways.

Harry forced himself to focus in his _Law and America _class but it was hard-going. It was his last class of the term, and he'd be free after tomorrow since examinations had been sat the week before, and this one class ran straight through their two-year program. So many things were done differently in the States, but in the UK the Auror program ran for a year and it and on the job training afterward. In America it was a two-year program with mixed classes after the first year with a paycheck after the first. Harry wondered if in America there was a higher safety record this way-it would have been a good question to ask during his _International Aurors_ seminar.

"Hey dumbass," Yolanda said, hitting him with her bright pink plastic purse. "Class is over, you don't have to look so diligent-no one knows you were hitting on a bartender all night."

Harry blushed. "I wasn't chatting her up so much as _skillfully using my charms._"

"What charms?" Yolanda scoffed. "That accent-as soon as you open your mouth they go at you like bees to honey, that's what it is. Hey, you want the potion now?"

"Please," Harry sighed. He had grappling with Henderson as his instructor and he had the sinking suspicion that Henderson had a hint of the Sight-any time any of the Auror trainees went out the night before Henderson found a way to use them as the examples for the worst moves and keep them on the mat for the longest possible time.

Yolanda tossed him the little glass vial. "That'll be three hundred galleons and something blue," Yolanda joked.

"Planning a wedding," Harry teased.

"I'm the only one who's not planning my own wedding," Yolanda sighed. "Why the hell do witches get married so young if we live so long, Harry? I want to know that."

"I haven't the foggiest," Harry said, scratching at his neck. "But now that you mention it- everyone that I know that's married is married to someone that they met from Hogwarts."

Yolanda snorted. "It makes me feel claustrophobic, is what it does. Hey-do you want to go out since it's the end of the term?"

Harry _knew_ that his eyes were growing to owl-like proportions underneath his glasses. "Yolanda," Harry whined. "We _just_ went out yesterday."

"And today's today," Yolanda grinned. "Besides, you know what the best cure for a hangover is, Harry?"

Harry shrugged-he wasn't exactly sure he _wanted_ to know at this point.

"We just gotta keep on partying and drinking," Yolanda said, shimmying into Harry's side to an inaudible beat until even he had to laugh and give in.

* * *

><p><em>I just want to looose my self-and this beat's gonna help me out. <em>The bass was thumping in the club all around Harry. He had been once or twice before to Lava Lounge-he wasn't quite sure why it was given the ambiguous distinction of being a lounge when there was far more dancing space then seated, geometric cushions. There were two levels to Lava Lounge-the first level had the large plexi-glass bar and was pure dance space which pulsating lights and dancers that came out at timed intervals and put on a little show for all the desperate blokes who weren't get any the other way. Harry vastly preferred the upstairs which was dance floor alternating with seated cushions on the floor and a smaller, more intimate bar.

"Come with me," Yolanda shouted in his ear to cover for the fact that the song was becoming an increasingly louder pitch as it blended into the next track. "Let's dance."

"I'm not pissed enough," Harry said, waving her away as he sipped on his Jack and Coke-with a little suggestion spell on their ID's he, Yolanda, and Tony managed to slip pass most Muggle bouncers with ease. "Where's Tony?"

"What?" Yolanda shouted back, pulling his arm even harder.

"I _said_," Harry yelled back and opened his lips in an exaggerated fashion so that Yolanda could read them. "Go bother Tony!"

Yolanda flipped him off and tottered off in her heels. Harry knew that for about fifteen minutes she'd nurse a tremendous grudge, and then she'd miraculously get over it-that how Yolanda was when she was pissed. Luckily for Harry that fifteen minutes was gateway enough for him to get sloshed out of his mind and also realize that dancing was not something that he was bad at but something that he did with stunning grace and charm.

"Another Jack and Coke, please," Harry hollered over the crowd to the blonde waitress. She turned around-and it was _Laura!_

"Harry," Laura beamed. "I didn't know that you came here!"

"I didn't know that you worked here," Harry said stupidly. Laura looked really good outside the dingy fluorescent lights-her long blonde hair no longer looked brassy but soft and curving over her shoulders and her nose was a little large but it only added character to an otherwise flawless face. As far as Harry could see Laura was really very stunning-as Ron would have said _she's no Lavender, mate._

"Yeah," Laura said. "Well, don't tell anybody-it's a little creative spell work to help me pay my tuition, they think I'm twenty-five."

"Oh," Harry said lamely.

"Jack and Coke, right?" Laura smiled as Harry nodded.

Harry went to reach in his pocket for his wallet but Laura waved him off-instead she handed him a napkin, folded it two. "Are you going home for your break?"

"Yeah," Harry said stupidly, trying not to notice the way Laura's cleavage bounced together as she squeezed her arms forward and leaned over the ledge of the bar. "I'm leaving tomorrow night, actually."

"So I'll see you next term," Laura said, and this time when she trailed her fingers down his arm Harry shivered for another reason altogether.

Harry downed the plastic cup of Jack and Coke like a dying man would water after being stranded on the Sahara for weeks. After a few moments of surveying the dance floor, Yolanda tapped him on the shoulder.

"Harry," Yolanda sighed. "I've been looking for you everywhere-Tony wants to know if he can go to your place-some idiot just threw up on his new jeans and I think he's about to start crying."

Harry snorted. "Of course, let's get out of here."

"_Ruined_ my damned night," Yolanda slurred drunkenly as they made their way down to the subway station. "Do you know how much I was looking forward to this?"

"You won't let Harry _or_ I forget, hon," Tony sighed, trying to simultaneously lean Yolanda away from his pants while helping Harry to keep her upright.

"Harry," Yolanda accused with the rapid-changes in conversation that only the drunk can perfect. "What took you so long? Who were you hooking up with?"

"Yolanda," Tony chastised.

"It was Laura, from the Academy," Harry said. "But I wasn't chatting her up or anything-she works there as a barmaid."

Yolanda turned around and glared at Harry-her lipstick had smudged off her cheeks and her eye makeup was making her look like a raccoon now, not the sultry gaze she had perfected earlier. "Don't be stupid, Harry," Yolanda said evenly.  
>"What?" Harry hissed.<p>

"I said," Yolanda looked at him pityingly. "Don't be stupid."

* * *

><p>Harry went home, but he didn't tell anyone straightaway. He meant to write, up until the point he left for England. Every day to write more than the nonsense letters he sent, but the fact was he didn't want them to <em>know<em>. Harry wanted to go home and be as anonymous as he could be in America, as free to go out and go to the market and to the shops and just feel a part of the people as he could in New York. But he knew if he wrote to one person like Hermione, he'd be obligated to tell Ron and if he told Ron he'd have to tell the Weasleys and if he told the Weasleys he might as well tell all his friends in a press conference with the media. It wasn't that they would divulge his secret on purpose, but they had so many friends and girlfriends and people they knew it was like a web that reached all around the wizarding world.

At times Harry just felt stifled at the idea of coming home, and yet here he was.

Harry sat down in his squeaky old bed at Grimmauld Place. It didn't even feel like his bed anymore, the large ergonomic bed he had brought in that Swedish store in the States felt like his bed now. Harry bit down the guilt that felt which surrounded the fact which he no longer felt home at Sirius' home-he _knew_ Sirius would have wanted him to be happy no matter where, but it was Harry himself that invented all these rules of where and when happiness had to be dictated to a person.

_I'm going to sit here and guilt myself into madness._ Harry thought tiredly.

He threw off his clothes and expanded his trunk, taking out whatever was the first pair of sweats he could grab. After writing a quick note off to Ron and Hermione, he drifted off into a quick nap.

When Harry woke up it was to the incomparable smell of tea brewing. That was one of the things he had definitely missed about England, no matter how conflicted he felt about the other things that he had left behind. Harry smiled, going down the stairs two at the time.

Hermione was in the sitting room reading the paper in front of the crackling hearth in her Unspeakable robes. Harry _had_ wished he had been there for her first day at work, but he had been barely able to sneak off to England for the day for their graduation and afterwards he had been so jet lagged he had been miserable for ages. Harry smiled at her bushy head.

"Hermione," he beamed. "You're here."

"You're here," Hermione laughed, hitting him with the paper as she went in for a hug. "You gave me the death of shock when I read your letter-what were you thinking?"

"I wanted to come _incognito_," Harry said, looking through his fingers as though he were hiding out from a camera lens.

Hermione nodded gravely. "I happy they still haven't figured out where you are living, thank God for all that. So how is New York really-you write letters sort of like you did in fourth year, so I can't really tell if you're blissfully happy or you're so miserable that you're covering it for the sake of the rest of us."

Harry laughed. "It isn't Azkaban, Hermione-I went there willingly!" Hermione laughed as well.

"I don't know how to describe New York," Harry said slowly. "I suppose I'd have to say that it's just like no where else in the world-it's certainly not anything like Scotland or like Surrey, although they are some suburban parts in the outer boroughs. It's nice though, everyone's so busy trying to impress each other that I quite fly under the radar."

"Sounds very Slytherin," Hermione smiled.

"It _is_," Harry enthused. "I had a hard time getting used to that-but I made some friends, I wrote you about them-and ever since then it's been really rather dull and wonderfully monotonous. All of the instructors are nice and it's a good time."

"I'm happy for you," Hermione smiled again, but this time it was a little stiff. "Will you move out there permanently, do you think?"

The idea gave Harry pause. While parts of him loved the anonymity and freedom to live as he wished in America, it wasn't truly his home as the UK was. But he was still hounded and followed by the paparazzi in England-though, by the time Harry finished his Auror training that could have all changed. Or he could have settled down in New York even more. Considering it made his head ache and he didn't really know what to think-his heart pulled him one way and his head another in a tangled mess that he couldn't see being resolved any time soon.

"I don't know," Harry finally said blankly.

"You don't know what," Ron said, coming through the fire at that exact moment. "Merlin, Harry you really need to clean out this grate."

"_Ron,_" Harry beamed, clapping his magenta-clad shoulder. Ron had gone into the family joke shop business only after successfully sitting his NEWTs, despite George's lures to the contrary-his mother would have never allowed it otherwise. They were currently working on a second location just off Knockturn and Ron was going to be their general manager-a responsibility of which he was quite proud.

"Harry, mate," Ron said in a choked voice, taking the seat next to him on the couch as Hermione gamely moved over. "You haven't grown an inch."

Harry laughed. "I'm not like you-there's no giant blood in the Potters."

It was a running gag that the reason Ron was so tall was because of some giant blood somewhere in his family, a fact that he admitted himself while drunk off his arse just after the war when they had been having informal parties in the Weasleys' back garden. Though Ron swore up and down the next day that he had never said such a whopper George went around calling him _Madame Maxime _for a week.

Ron's ears went red. "Oh shut it," he muttered. "I only said that because I was on the bottle."

"On the bottle," Hermione scoffed. "You had two butterbeers and you kept calling me _darling-_I was more nauseous than Seamus and he couldn't stand upright!"

"Mummy, Daddy, don't quarrel," Harry said in a lisping voice, putting his fingers in his ears, which started them up laughing.

Hermione hugged Harry close with one arm and her eyes filled with tears. "I'm so happy you're here, Harry."

"I'm happy to be here with you two," Harry said, and no matter what he felt, he knew that wherever Ron and Hermione where would always be the place that he would feel the most at home.

* * *

><p>Harry knew that he probably should have wrote to Mrs. Tonks before he started walking down her little stone path in rural Kent. But honestly he thought that things had changed so much-nearly nine months had passed since the last time he had been in England for any good length of time and he felt as though Teddy's childhood was slipping quickly though his hands-and he felt massively guilty for it. Sirius had always regretted missing out on his childhood and now because of circumstance Harry was missing out on Teddy's although it wasn't the same-he did write and send gifts and Floo call. But that wasn't the same as being home all the time.<p>

The grass grew wildly by the white gate that denoted the warded area of Mrs. Tonks' village and all around it small yellow daffodils bloomed in a merry splash of color and light. Harry envied them this-the rare bright sunny days of the English countryside-the Wellies underneath robes and the fry up breakfasts with thick cuts of rashers that you could never find stateside. All the best bits of England seemed to be embodied in Mrs. Tonks' pretty, quaint little home.

Harry knocked on the door but when no one immediately opened he pushed open the handle and let himself in. The telly was on in the small sitting room, and it was playing another oldies film-_All About Eve_, Harry knew it because his aunt Petunia had been a big fan of Joan Crawford and would put on her pictures whenever they were on.

"Good gods," Malfoy said, coming down the stairs. He looked so different from what Harry remembered-his face was fuller and more pleasant, and his light brown hair was shiny with a fresh-cleaned glow. He looked _happy_ and if Harry hadn't resented him so much for seeing Teddy grow up he might have been mad enough to ask him his secret.

"You ready?" asked a pleasant female voice from the couch.

"Just about," Malfoy said, not noticing Harry by the door. "I just need to make sure I don't leave the back gate unwarded-Aunt Andromeda takes it as badly as the times I let Teddy stay awake through naptime."

"A treasonable offense," the girl laughed and Malfoy laughed too-he seemed very open with her-_very _happy.

"Harry," the girl said. It was Susan-Susan Bones. She had cut off her hair, and was wearing pearlescent robes that made her look like an archangel. Harry could see why Malfoy was so taken with her, she had always been one of the prettiest girls in their year-and Malfoy-well, Harry wanted to be uncharitable and say he couldn't see what Susan saw in Malfoy, but frankly Malfoy looked and seemed rather _different._

"Potter," Malfoy said with a minute shake of his head as though a trusted crup had wet his floor. "They've gone out today-Aunt Andromeda went to see an old friend in Staffordshire that's been ill."

"Oh," Harry said lamely. All this way for nothing. "Can you tell them I've come?"

"You might as well Floo call another time," Malfoy snapped out. "I'm going to be out all day and I really don't know who will be back first."

Malfoy handed Susan her bag and a book and he whispered something in her ear. Susan's eyes flickered to him for the briefest moment before she snickered _just_ faintly and Harry knew that Malfoy had said something uncharitable about him, as he always had. Harry balled up his hands in fists and followed Malfoy and Susan Bones outside the wards-he didn't know what pleased Malfoy to make him seem so bloody happy with himself but he was sure that that leopard would _never_ change his spots.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Hey readers and reviewers- the drama begins in this chapter, although not the H/D, that takes a while yet. The clever reader would pay close attention to aspects of Draco's new friend's __personality- and of Draco's when he's with him. Hmm . . . it will make all the difference in the plot pretty soon. And as always your comments, concerns, and reviews always make my day. Love!_

Chapter 9:

"You _do _realize that you're stalking me," Draco drawled evenly, forcing himself not to look up from his _Guidelines in Education_ handbook. For the last month Algernon Bones had made his feelings about Draco entirely clear-he was five years older, had been a Hufflepuff, his mother was a half-blood and his father was the brother of Susan Bones' father, and had been the head of the Hit Wizards for ten years and had just retired last year. Draco knew everything about him because Al Bones was slowly and meticulously chipping away at every last defense that Draco had against a very charming, very well-connected young man, until Draco could no longer think of a logical reason why he shouldn't be thanking his lucky constellation that Bones found him attractive.

_But I have to look every gift horse in the mouth,_ Draco thought. It was unfortunate but true-therapy had taught him to trust himself, but he hadn't quite the ability to trust everyone else yet-especially someone so handsomely packaged as Algernon Bones.

"Am I?" Algernon Bones laughed- Al Bones also had the loveliest dimple right in the corner of his left cheek which Draco was _not_ going to look act. "I thought all stalkers wore dark robes and stood in the shadows of two brick buildings and only seemed to come out when it rained."

Draco couldn't help but smile- Algernon Bones also had a lovely sense of humor-he was a tremendous wit and critic and only when Draco was at his absolute worst could he avoid being amused around Al Bones.

"There," Algernon smiled gently. "I've made you laugh. Do you think that they'd put that on my obituary-_Fallen Auror Makes Bottle Brunette Laugh."_

"I didn't laugh," Draco corrected. "I only smiled."

"How true," Algernon touched his chest tragically. "I am slain by my own cruel hubris. Farewell, vicious post-War world. Crime was at an all time low- what was another Auror off the streets?"

Draco laughed. "You should cut back your caffeine intake, Bones."

"I should," Algernon said, very gravely. "But when I was a child my nanny dropped me from a moving carriage and now the only thing that soothes my shattered skull is caffeine and looking into your eyes."

Draco pinked and looked down into his textbook. "That was, quite possibly, the worst line I've ever heard in the history of come-on lines."

"Really," Algernon said, astonished. "Susan told me that your aunt was a massive fan of soaps-I thought you'd be made of sterner stuff, Malfoy."

"No," Draco drawled. "Just one hit of your nonsense and I'm out for the day. Really quite effective-you should patent it."

Algernon went quiet for a moment, during which Draco tried _not _to stare into his crystal-blue eyes. Or notice the way his hair seemed to wave and curl back from his face like the ocean from the shore-_or_ seem to notice the way Algernon's broad shoulders worked under his red robes as he shifted back and forth in his seat. Everything about him seemed _alive_ as though he had taken too many stimulant potions and was running off the steam constantly. Draco had always thought that a person like that would annoy him, or that their optimism would start to grate. But instead, oddly enough, the opposite was true-Draco found himself turning towards Algernon Bones like a plant seeking sunlight.

"Come out with me tonight," Algernon said seriously. "We can go wherever you like. Just say yes."

Draco stared down at his book. "You know what I'm going to say, Bones."

"Is it because I'm not your type?" Algernon said easily, though he did look a bit hurt about his eyes. "Because you could have said-"

"It's not that," Draco said stiffly. "It's _definitely_ not that."

"Oh," Algernon beamed, putting his hand to his chest and fluttering his eyes like a simpering maiden. "Oh _really._ Now, pretend I'm not me, but I'm still me. Now, that Algernon Bones, isn't he divine-I do say, what's your favorite part about him-is it the hair? The eyes? The muscles? The collection of vintage Chocolate Frog Cards?"

"I _do_ hope the last one is a lie," Draco said, shocked.

"Er, refresh me on the wand motion for _incendio_," Algernon teased. "But really, Draco. Come out with me. We get on together-it will be a good time."

"Alright," Draco groaned, staring down into his NEWT text.

"You'll be groaning like that before the night is through," Algernon boasted, shocking the waitress that came to take their order.

* * *

><p>"I heard that you are going to go out with my cousin," Susan sang, plopping down a roll of blank parchment and unused quills in front of them in the library.<p>

Draco suppressed the urge to hex her mute. Obviously Algernon and Susan came as a joint package, he had known that-even a bloody child would have _known_ that. It just annoyed him that they had gone to each other and already talked about this as though it was a done deal-that left so much room for failure, and Draco did not like those odds. He really did not like the idea of failing Susan _and _Algernon in one fell swoop if this relationship didn't pan out-he and Susan were really very close and whatever anything else he did want a friendship with Algernon too.

Merlin, but life was complicated.

"I am," Draco said.

"You don't sound happy," Susan sighed. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Draco said. "I just don't want things to go badly, is all."

"Ah," Susan said in a prescient manner. "I told Algernon that pushing you wouldn't likely make you push back-that in all likelihood he'd just as likely push you away. Is it that you don't have feelings for him, then?"

"No," Draco said. "He's-" _Clever, funny, witty, handsome, well connected - _"It's that I'm being far too cautious by far."

"Of course, you idiot," Susan laughed, and Draco hit her with a roll of parchment. "But you also deserve to be happy, Draco. I know that Algernon has the habit of being a bit much at times but he's an absolute angel and he'll really treat you well. And if you don't suit you know I'll always be your friend, don't you?"

"Of course," Draco said pompously but inside he felt the soft stirrings of relief and affection.

* * *

><p>"Hello," Algernon Bones said, meeting Draco just outside the wards of his home in Kent. Algernon looked extremely well in Muggle trousers, a white collared shirt and a navy buttoned cardigan which pulled across his broad shoulders and brought out the hue of his eyes to a tee. Draco was thankful now that he had dressed in Muggle clothes as well after a long back and forth in front of the mirror- he finally threw on a pair of his tightest jeans and his black wool-cashmere jumper and hoped for the best.<p>

"Hello," Draco said back. "Was it hard to find?"

"No," Algernon coughed. "Sorry. It's that I've never seen you in Muggle clothes before-it's sort of like seeing your teacher at the grocer's-it's a little bit shocking and intriguing at the same time."

Draco laughed. "I do hope you recall I'm going to be a teacher, Bones."

"All the little gay boys are going to be penning love sonnets to you in their textbook margins," Algernon said fervently and Draco blushed.

"What are we going to be doing today?" Draco finally said, when the heady moment had passed.

"It's a surprise," Algernon said, taking Draco's arm. "Unless you're going to cry and wail and panic and say you simply can't handle a surprise."

"You'd be surprised what I can handle," Draco said, and a moment later he was shocked at his own bravado when Algernon blushed this time.

They apparated to a lake near a field which could have been anywhere in England. It was in a well-tended stretch of land, though, and it looked as though it was on someone's estate or near a park, because the grass was fresh with the scent of being freshly _severed_ and the flowers grew in neat little rows with no signs of their having been a single weed or a malicious insect to disturb them. By then edge of the pond was a pretty robin's egg blue rowing boat, which had been anchored to the earth with a knot made with the tell-tale signs of _incarcerous_. Other than that there were no signs of magic in the gentle swaying of the oak trees nor the chirping birds overhead.

"Come on," Algernon said, offering Draco his hand, and when, after a brief pause Draco took it, he severed the line connecting the boat to the shore with a neat spell, and they rowed off onto the lake.

Draco watched him row in complete silence, the land around them a complete landscape beauty of early summertime green and gold peppered with the occasional pinks and violets of the flowers that had managed to escape the grounds keeper and make their way towards the shore of the lake. For once Algernon didn't try to make a joke or keep up his end of the conversation-and Draco respected him all the more for it, as though he could recognize that this moment was somehow precious and beautiful and should be hoarded away and kept in a pensieve somewhere by the gods of peace and tranquility.

"I used to row," Algernon said finally, "The summer before I joined the Aurors as a trainee. I was terribly thin and out of shape and shy and I took it up in some manic way to look less of a fool when I made it there. I failed miserably of course."

Draco smiled. "Is this the part where I reassure you and tell you you look absolute fabulous and have silenced all your detractors once and for all?"

Algernon laughed. "No-I think I stopped caring once and for all ages ago."

"Too true," Draco said, a little bitterly. "Or you wouldn't be rowing me along on a lake in the middle of the day."

"Why do you do that?" Algernon _tsked_. "Can't you see yourself how I see you? Don't you know how amazing you are?"

Draco looked away. "Don't be such a sappy git, Bones."

Algernon locked the oars with a handy spell that Draco had never heard before and then he carefully crossed to the center of the boat where Draco sat. Gently, he brushed a stray hair away from Draco's face and tucked in behind his ear. "I've fancied you from the first moment I saw you-in that awful mess they had made of your house. I thought to myself-how could they do this to someone so beautiful and so sad? And I knew that I wanted to be with you, and that one day we'd be together."

Draco swallowed and took Algernon's hand on his own lap and threaded it with his own fingers and transferred it to Draco's lap. Unconsciously he licked and bit down on his own and felt a brief clench in Algernon's fingers as though he was shifting some of this slide of power and tension over to Draco.

"If we kiss," Algernon said hoarsely. "I won't _ever_ want to let you go."

Draco nodded briefly. "You'd better hurry up and kiss me, then."

The kiss was like sliding into sunlight. Draco found himself sinking into it, surrendering into it in a way he didn't think was possible-welcoming the warm and the soothing sensation that started in his toes and seemed to cleanse his body all the way to his feet. The moment Algernon's tongue brushed across his closed lips he immediately granted it access, throwing his arms around Algernon's shoulders, and letting his stronger weight push them both down into the bottom of the small boat. Draco closed his eyes and let Algernon's kisses on his nose, his cheeks, and the point of his chin float him away to an island of sensation as surely as the sunlight streaming through his eyelids.

"How do you feel?" Algernon asked finally, twisting Draco's hair around his fingers as they both sat back carefully for some air.

"Good," Draco smirked. "If I didn't I would have stopped you a long time ago."

"And tried to save the tatters of your virtue, I'm sure," Algernon snorted, grabbing snatches of invisible fabric as though he were a maiden trapped with a cruel lord.

"Arse," Draco said.

They had lunch by the shore underneath a large weeping willow who watched over them with a mournful sort of peace. Draco found that it was far too easy to like Algernon- it was coming as swiftly as being stuck in a whirlpool-the more he seemed to fight against it, the more it was there, taking him under. Draco wasn't sure what to think-Algernon was nearly perfect and even his faults made Draco fancy him more, as though he was purposely doing them to make himself more attractive.

So why was he fighting it so much?

"Galleon for your thoughts?" Algernon asked, passing him another sandwhich on a small plate, which Draco declined.

"I think you'll find the saying is knut for your thoughts," Draco said, sipping his tea.

"I knew you'd never go that cheaply," Algernon whispered into his neck, laying a soft kiss there. Draco shivered and moved away.

"That makes me sound like something rather different than someone swotting for his NEWTs for teacher training," Draco said caustically. "You ought to revise that statement.

"I regret nothing," Algernon said with faux grandeur, kissing Draco's earlobe. "Isn't that what French always say? Besides, you are far more precious than a sickle-or a galleon for that matter. Do you know where we are? This is my parent's estate, Landsdowne. It's all closed up, my parents are in Germany for the season, but I wanted to show you some of it, I wanted to come here with you. My parents usually have country weekends and hunting parties you know the whole _jolly good old chap_ sort of thing. I want you to come some weekend."

"Are you quite sure?" Draco asked, though his heart was beating double-time with hope and anticipation. The Boneses traveled in the best circles of the post-War society and Draco had no doubt they would try to squash any _friendship_ between their son and Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa, one dead and one in exile and disgrace. He sighed.

"Absolutely," Algernon said firmly. "My parents do not dictate my relationships, Draco. Or Susan's friends. You've got to lay off those soaps, mate."

"Oh, leave off," Draco laughed, but it was the laughter of someone who was very relieved.

"So, what do you think?" Algernon said, shifting a little so that Draco would have to turn around and straddle his lap.

"About what?" Draco said coyly.

"Don't tease, Malfoy," Algernon said seriously, his hands threading through Draco's fine hair over and over. "About this?"

"Yes," Draco murmured, bringing their lips together, so that they were nearly kissing but not quite. "Oh, yes."

"Merlin," Algernon sighed, knocking his forehead against Draco's. "Just-_Merlin_, really. I guess that's that."

"That _is_ that," Draco said, linking their fingers together with a half smile on his leg.

* * *

><p>Draco sat down on the grass in Aunt Andromeda's back garden. As a child he had never been allowed to do something as mundane as sit in the grass without there being a tarp beneath him, and that was only on the days that his father had been away to London on business. He had grown up terrified of bugs, of Muggle clothing, of Muggle electronics, and of people with sullied blood and their sympathizers. Some days he wondered if what his father would think of him now-his precious pureblood heir who grew up to be a homosexual, passed his time with a man with mixed blood and lived with his disowned aunt and his cousin whose father was a werewolf. Some days he thought his father would think him the ultimate survivor, and on his more cynical days he knew his father would think him little more than traitor.<p>

Draco shrugged. He really didn't give a crup's arse what anyone else thought anymore, frankly.

Algernon chased Teddy behind the tree and Teddy went running, the both of them giggling like mad-Teddy's hair turning more colors then a bad potion on the thirteenth day of the month. Finally Algernon caught up with him-despite Algernon's physique Teddy had the magic of youth on his side-Draco had often gotten winded chasing Teddy round the house shouting _impedimenta_ while trying to get him ready for a bath.

"I've got you!" Algernon cried, swinging Teddy up into the air and catching him several times in succession. "What should I do with you?"

"P-put me down-n," Teddy hiccoughed, looking to Aunt Andromeda for assistance.

Aunt Andromeda merely laughed. "I suppose you better," she sighed. "You've got your hands full with one Black male, I daresay that's enough for anyone, even you, Algernon dear."

Aunt Andromeda had fallen for Algernon harder than Draco had which was really rather ridiculous to see-every time he came over she forced Draco to put on his best Muggle outfits or his good dress robes and she made his favorite dishes, even if Teddy refused to eat them. Algernon of course thought it was hilarious.

"Suppose you're right, Mrs. Tonks," Algernon said, releasing Teddy who went to play with his set of Battling Bouncing Beans.

Draco laid out in the sun and closed his eyes, stretching out his arms to either side, as though he could reach from one end of the little patch of garden to the other. When he felt the brush of finger tips against his own he ignored them, until he felt something else brush his hand entirely. Draco opened his eyes-it was a dirty branch and Algernon was smirking.

"You were ignoring me," he pouted. "I don't take well to being ignored."

"You git," Draco cried. "You've _dirtied_ me-"

Algernon leapt up with the stick and waved it in front of himself like a rapier. "Well, what are you going to do about it, Malfoy-"

"Argh!" Draco cried, chasing Algernon from one end of the garden to the other, the two of them running around in a circle filled with feints and twists and turns. Teddy watched with rapt fascination from his corner, carefully guarding his beans so that they would not spill as he lined them up in size order.

After a few moments Algernon slowed down, deliberately giving Draco the advantage, a thing he would have never had, considering the Auror's strict regime of exercise and training, most of which seemed to involve running to nowhere for great distances for long periods of time.

"You won," Algernon smiled, putting his arms on Draco's shoulders. "Now what do you want for a prize?"

"I didn't win," Draco scoffed. "You let me win, which is cheating and the game is forfeit. However . . "

"However," Algernon waggled his eyebrows far too suggestively.

Draco threaded his hands through his hair and pulled his head down for a brief kiss before Teddy could cry out something like _eww_ and dash in between their legs like a crup begging for a treat. When they parted after a few entirely too-brief pecks Draco could feel that his face was warm.

"We'd better go in for dinner," Aunt Andromeda sang out pleasantly. "Draco, will you help me with Teddy's toys while Algernon keeps an eye on young Mr. Lupin?"

Draco was aware of a distraction when he heard one. He looked up at his aunt curiously. "Is something the matter, Aunt?"

"Nothing," Aunt Andromeda smiled. "I just wanted to tell you how much I like our young Mr. Bones. A nice stable young man like that, from a good family-and he obviously cares a good deal about you, Draco."

Draco turned away and wrestled a bean into it's box to hide his smile.

"And how do you feel, Draco?" Aunt Andromeda prodded.

"Alright," Draco said and this time he couldn't find a reason to hide his smile as Aunt Andromeda swept him up into a massive embrace.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Hey readers and my some not so frequent reviewers I know you all are probably waiting for Harry and Draco to get together, and they will but it will take a bit of time yet- this story is more like real life post-war bc I wanted to make it as non-traditional as possible. So I hope you enjoy the ride and the bits of drama and we'll see them together very shortly. Cookies and milk! _

_(Warning for drunk het sex, non explicit in the chapter, but necessary to the plot, if it bothers you, it's at the end of the chapter and don't eat a cookie today lol, no you still get one but just a diet sugar free one. Ewww.)_

* * *

><p>Chapter 10:<p>

"Hi, Harry," Laura said eagerly, sliding into the seat next to him for their _Advanced American Law and Ethics_ course. Harry smiled eagerly back. He hadn't seen too much of Laura outside class and the club she worked at since he got home from hols a few days back-he had come home three days before classes had started up and one day he had gone to dinner at Yolanda's apartment with her son Justin, and another night to some bizarre art show in the East Village with Tony, an event he was in no mood to ever replicate again.

"Hey," Harry said. "How was your break?"

"Good," Laura said warmly, flashing him another one of her ultraviolet smiles that Harry always felt made him smile too. There was that feeling around Laura-that aura that when she gave you her attention, she gave you her _full_ attention. It wasn't so much that she was pretty, although she was really rather pretty despite her dyed hair and her acrylic nails- it was her attentiveness and her bubbling sort of charm. Laura didn't say much that was any different from any girl that Harry hadn't met before but the way that she _looked_ while she said it turned his insides into a merry little New York street fair.

"I went back home," Laura continued, swapping her compact in front of her for her textbook and a ream of parchment and a pink quill that said _Stun-Her. _"I'm from Long Island so I just basically apparated and stayed gone for a few days. What about you? Where are you from in England?"

"I was born in Surrey, but I doubt you've heard of it," Harry said. Only two witches that he'd chatted up had heard of it and Tony who read _The New York Wizarding Times_ with such an affected air that he looked better at it than most Ravenclaws Harry had seen try. "But I lived all my life in Scotland really. I went to school up there-Hogwarts."

"Everyone's heard of Hogwarts," Laura beamed, leaning her full cleavage over the long countertop in front of them just as Instructor Morris entered the room. Harry fought a battle not to look down and lost-He swallowed heavily, knowing that his face was heating up and dug into his bag for an extra quill that he didn't need.

When he sat back up it seemed as though Laura was even closer than she had been before, twisting a piece of over processed corn-silk blonde hair around her index finger over and over, smiling coyly. Harry smiled back- he could smell the vanilla and fruity scent of her perfume and it was sweet and cloying and so very, _very,_ attractive. Laura smelled nothing like the girls Harry had been enough to smell-Hermione who smelt like the earth and books and tea-and Ginny who on the rare occasions she wore perfume liked to wear _Bondel No. 6._

"Where did you go to school?" Harry asked, swallowing around a knot of tension in his throat. He wondered if Laura knew that she was driving him mad, or if she was merely this desirable as a person and simply skipping along through life, scattering some of it around like a breathable love potion.

"I didn't," Laura sighed. "We didn't have the money so my mom home schooled me and my three sisters. I sat my NEWTs in Salem during the free examinations they give for the underprivileged. Lord, that sounds pathetic."

"It doesn't," Harry protested, putting a hand over one of Laura's. "It sounds like you were very brave-to do so well, in spite of your circumstances."

"You'd know more about bravery than I would, Harry," Laura laughed.

Harry shook his head adamantly. "I had _loads_ of help, really."

"And that sounds exactly like something a hero would say," Laura fluttered and whacked his arm suggestively with her quill. "But I think we better stop talking since Instructor Morris has once again figured out the erasure charms for the blackboards."

Harry laughed and swiveled his seat so that it was facing away from Laura but throughout class he couldn't fully concentrate, not with the sugar-sweet warmth of Laura's scent wafting through his nostrils from so nearby.

* * *

><p>"Ah," Yolanda said, stretching out on a blanket she had taken from her apartment. "Did you get me a hot dog too, Harry?"<p>

"Yes," Harry made a face. He had no bloody idea how Yolanda and Tony managed to stomach these like they were chips at a pub-Harry had eaten one his first week and had gotten ill and had vowed never to touch another. Perhaps they were something you had to grow up eating-Harry knew there were plenty of British foods that Americans found naturally unsavory that he thought were absolutely delicious. For the meantime, though, he was going to stick to pretzels and ice cream out of the snack cart-it'd be better for all involved.

"Thanks," Tony said, taking one of the cans of soda from Harry's hand and cracking it open to take a sip. The heat of summer had led into a long and sticky autumn, but thankfully in New York there were loads of shady parks and trees and with a few discreetly applied cooling charms you really weren't suffering at all. Harry felt rather badly for the poor Muggles who had to walk to work then wait underground all day like moles but he supposed the same was true in London or any big city.

"How do you think you did on the dueling challenge?" Yolanda asked. "I think I mistimed my hex and it only cut through Boucher's jacket. I wonder if the instructor saw that?"

"It's only half-point deduction," Harry said bracingly. "I know that Cooper had me by the throat for too long because the instructor yelled out _are you dancing with him Potter or are you planning on finishing him off so I can get home in time for dinner?_"

Yolanda and Tony both laughed at his fake New York accent.

"At least you're not like some other people," Yolanda continued with a bitter note in her voice. "I have no idea why these broads decide to become Aurors, Tony, when they spend all their time checking their _glamours_ in the bathroom before they go to run laps, or when we're grapping they freak out right afterwards checking their manicures. There's this one girl, Laura, we call her Leapfrog Laura because she jumps from one guy to-"

"Don't talk about Laura," Harry said stiffly, squeezing his can of soda as he put it down between his legs. "She's not like all that-"

"Not like _all that_," Yolanda scoffed. "That girl's been trying to get to your wand and I don't mean your wooden one since the first day you showed up for Auror training. Don't be so blind, Harry!"

"And don't be so bloody condescending, Yolanda!" Harry snapped out, standing up to throw away his trash.

Harry threw away his balled-up piece of tin-foil with far more force than was necessary. Frankly he didn't even know _why_ he was getting so upset with Yolanda-from the outset she and then Tony had been his first real mates in Manhattan, if anything he should be listening to what they had to say. But there was also _something_ about Laura. Harry wasn't blind, he knew sometimes she contrived and put on a false airs, but he had seen another side of her that time that they had been at the lounge and later on when she had talked of her childhood and her family. Harry thought that there could be more to Laura then just her pink and pretty exterior and he wanted to get to know her.

Harry felt an arm clasp his shoulder and he turned around. Tony was smiling sympathetically at him, one dark hand held over his eyes to shield himself from the sunlight.

"Hey," Tony said. "You know how Yolanda is with her boys, man. She doesn't mean any harm-she just doesn't want you to get hurt either."

"I know," Harry said, immediately contrite. Yolanda had always been there from the beginning for Harry-with her friendship, her jokes, her notes from class, free Pepper-Up if he was hung over and a free meal if he couldn't make it to Gringotts Manhattan before lunchtime. What Yolanda lacked in tact she more than made up with her enormous heart.

Tony led Harry back to the grass knoll where Yolanda's crimson bed sheet was still anchored by her solitary figure. When she saw Harry's figure walking back with Tony she huffed in an exaggerated fashion and crossed her arms.

"Come on," Tony rolled his eyes. "Bros before hos, man."

Harry laughed. "But we're not all bros, and Laura's not a ho."

"Mphm," huffed Yolanda with a sideways grin as she made space for Harry on the sheet. "Only one of those statements is wrong, Harry."

For now Harry decided that it would be best to just let it go.

* * *

><p>Harry and Tony knocked together their shots of firewhiskey and downed them back with a head shake and toss-it had become their <em>thing<em> to do after a particularly nasty drink and firewhiskey was one of the nastiest drinks around. Harry pulled on the little ornamental red straw that had been put in his Jack and Butterbeer and Tony surveyed the dance floor with his beer, paying no mind to the _beer before liquor_ ditty that Harry had learned by rote his first week here.

Tonight they had decided to go out to a wizarding dive bar that Yolanda had heard about in Brooklyn-she had heard through a magical cousin that it was good place to meet blokes and she had insisted that Harry and Tony had to follow her out there one weekend, and frankly Harry had wanted to go as well-a pub was a nice change of venue from the usual lounges and clubs of their Friday nights.

"Look at this," Tony yelled over the warbling nonsense on the wireless. Across the bar a giant telly was playing a recap of American football; a sport so ridiculously complex Harry had yet to learn one rule beyond the fact that the blokes ran and piled themselves on top of each other.

Harry laughed. There was a little square box-a bar toy that in thick Gothic print said _Test Your Magical Core-1 Gal._ Along the side were ticks and things like '_Red Hot Lothario'_ to '_Lonely in Limbo'. _

"Have you got a galleon piece?" Tony asked. "All I've got is a two galleon piece and a twenty dollar bill."

Harry snorted and fished out a gold galleon for himself and then one for Tony. He watched as Tony placed the coin into the slot first and when the cue lit up-he slid his wand hand into the small velvet compartment. _Lucky in lust, unlucky in love_, the machine decided firmly. Tony laughed uproariously. "I'll take that!"

"Now you, Harry," he prodded Harry's side spilling some of Harry's butterbeer mix on a witch in tight robes who passed by who was thankfully too pissed to even notice. Harry rolled his eyes and plonked his coin in. _Only One For You._

Harry rolled his eyes. "How does this kind of nonsense even work anyway?"

"Eet sees all," Tony said with a horrible Eastern European accent. "I have no freaking idea-probably on body heat or something. Where's Yolanda?"

Harry saw her across the bar being chatted up by an overeager blond bloke who looked a bit like a Norse god and yet put him in the mind of Malfoy. Malfoy had been the only other blond Harry had ever known to be that fair-well, other than his mum and his psychopath of a father, of course. Sometimes Harry wondered what became of Malfoy and all the other Death Eater children. After the war had ended he had wanted so much to put out a statement publicly to state something like _leave them alone, can't we all stop attacking each other? _But of course it wouldn't have made a difference-the press had chased Harry out of England, nearly, and he was surprised that some of those Death Eater children hadn't been driven mad by what they'd seen.

Harry sighed and looked down at his empty drink. He needed a top-up if he was thinking about things like the war with such clarity.

Harry made his way to the bar and got another shot of firewhiskey as well as another butterbeer and firewhisker mixer. Sometimes having a different accent worked in his advantage-especially when yelling across crowded bars. Harry turned to ask Tony if he could get him anything when he noticed Tony happily snogging a hippy brunette in the corner against the _Core Tester._ Harry huffed and sipped on his drink idly, trying not to watch his mate giving a free show to the entire pub-_lucky in lust, indeed._

After finishing that drink and another shot Harry thought it was more than enough time for calling it a night. He thought of looking for Yolanda but then he rethought the idea-whenever she was pissed she had the fifteen minute grace period of being surly before she forgave him, and if she was with a fit bloke she wouldn't take too kindly to Harry interfering.

Harry sighed and made his way to the nearest apparation point, hoping that he wouldn't lose any necessary appendages in the travel to the Lower East Side. He really couldn't remember the trains that he had taken to get to Brooklyn and he didn't want to risk another episode of getting lost on the train, especially getting lost while drunk.

Harry crossed himself and said a quick prayer to the Muggle Lord and with a _crack _he set over home.

The spinning motion of travel had not been the best idea he'd ever have. Taking that bloody portkey to that graveyard hadn't been one either, but the spinning was up there in his list of _if I could do things over_ by Harry J. Potter, Hero, Fool, and Future Auror. Harry slunk down in the sofa for a moment and held his head between his hands, waiting for his brain to stop turning in his head like an unruly top before he made his way into the steel and chrome countertops that made up his minimalist kitchen.

Instead Harry caught sight of a folded up a folded up napkin that Laura had given to him before he had gone on holiday home to England. He had spoken to Laura once or twice since then, but always on some pretext-notes for a class, do you want to get coffee before a class?- nothing _concrete. _Harry wondered if Laura had some idea that he was somewhat perusing her or like everyone was saying she had been after him from the start.

Harry found that all a bit hard to swallow.

Harry had _never_ had the nerve to do this sober, but now that he was pissed off his arse, Floo calling Laura and telling her exactly what he wanted from her seemed like the most logical and the most well thought out plan he had ever concocted-and considering his track record with plans, that was saying a lot. Harry dropped down on his knees and tossed out a handful of Floo powder into his pentagon-shaped fireplace, calling out, "The Astoria Arms, Laura Shelley's apartment!"

It took a moment but Laura came to the fire. She was dressed in her usual barmaid's outfit-a tank top that had been cut with a scissor so that it could show even more of her ample cleavage and her short-shorts. Harry couldn't see if she had on any slippers-she had walked rather quickly towards the hearth.

"Harry," Laura said, her nose wrinkling in confusion. "Is something up?"

"You look really _hot_," Harry said, and then turned red at his confession. Dear Merlin it was as though someone had turned off the valve which kept thoughts like these silent. "Really _hot._"

"Really?" Laura purred, twisting a piece of her hair around and around on her finger. Harry usually found that a bit annoying but now he couldn't see why now-it was bloody _fascinating._ He decided to tell Laura it was fascinating.

Laura laughed. "Can I come through?"

"Alright," Harry said.

Laura giggled again. "You might want to move back and give me some room, Harry. Unless you want me to drop in on your crotch."

Harry's face heated.

Harry went and sat down on the couch and Laura came in and dusted herself off on the mat in front of the fire, taking a rather lot of time, including a bit of time bending over to shake off her hair and letting Harry see her-_oh._ She finally sauntered over to the leather sectional sofa that Harry had gotten more because it seemed to match the flat than because it was his sense of style and nudged his arm gently. Harry finally realized what she was telling him and draped his arm across her shoulder.

"Thanks for inviting me over," Laura said, toying with the outside seam of Harry's pant leg. "It's a nice place you've got here. "Thanks," Harry said hoarsely, "I hope I didn't disturb you-it's late."

Laura stood up and shrugged one shoulder and pouted. "I'm not disturbed, _yet_." Laura tossed out, walking down the hall. "Is your bedroom through here?"

"Yes," Harry said, toeing off his shoes. "It's that door right there,"

"Great," Laura beamed, tugging off her tight tank top. Underneath she had on a snug purple lace bra that her breasts showed clear through. Harry leaned in and kissed her, stroking her chest as he unhooked the bra and slid his hand down to the button on her shorts. They fell into the bed together, and in the morning Harry barely remembered a thing, though Laura spent some time refreshing his foggy memory on every horizontal surface he had and on quite a few that weren't.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Hey my reviewers! I got so many lovely reviews this past chapter and I just want to thank you all especially Autore Kozoma and Camilla for their reviews. I promise you all that H/D action will be coming up sooner all the while, but there is drama that will be taking place before that will happen, including Harry reasons for moving back from America. I really wanted to write this first part of this story about dealing with life in a post-war society, something only one character really has done so far. But in about three chapters everything will start to change. _

* * *

><p>Chapter 11:<p>

"So, Draco," Healer Levy began. "How do you feel about today?"

His year of court-mandated therapy was over. Draco had thought at the outset that he would be through the moon when this day had come, even though he had known that something wasn't fully right mentally with himself after the war. But now that this day had come and the year was over all he could think was _it's too fast. _It felt as though the year that he had thought would undoubtedly turn out to be the worst of his life had turned out to be somewhat bittersweet- Draco had been injured, over and over, but he had not been really harmed, and in the end he felt he knew himself. His true self.

"I have no idea how I feel," Draco said honestly. "It was a fast year."

Healer Levy nodded. "I think sometimes we set our expectations too high, or too low for an event and the reality often comes as a surprise. What do you think of that statement?"

"That I've probably done that my entire life," Draco laughed, a little bitterly, thinking of himself villainizing Harry Potter and acting as though the Dark Lord's return was the best thing since the invention of the wand.

Healer Levy nodded sympathetically. "You're not the only person to have regrets, Draco. Many people put their spouses up on pedestals or bitterly come to regret spending a vast amount of gold on a home or a broom. Life is simply made up of these experiences to show us what we truly value."

Draco nodded. The small cynical part of himself wanted to roll his eyes and stamp his foot and make a scene but with time it was becoming smaller and smaller until it was barely a speck in the larger whole. Instead he felt more fortunate that he hadn't wasted his entire life in the service of a madman-like his father; or realized far too late and had to have fled everything he had known, including his loved ones-like his mother.

"What are your plans?" Healer Levy asked. "Are you still going to sit the NEWTs in Education?"

"Next week," Draco shuddered. "Please don't remind me."

"Ah," Healer Levy said, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a small envelope. "But I have a small parting gift for you."

"Gift?" Draco asked suspiciously. "Shouldn't it have been the other way around?"

"Oh, no," Healer Levy laughed. "You were _quite _the challenge early on-you kept me on my toes. Go on, open it."

_Dear Jacob,_

_Thank you for dinner last Tuesday-I enjoyed seeing my sister again so soon!_

_About the placement for Draco Malfoy, if he is interested, tell him that we are holding him a position contingent on the basis that his NEWT-Ed scores are similar to his OWL scores. _

_I remain your dusty old sister-in-law,_

_Livinia Hardwicke_

_The London Wizarding Nursery School._

Draco blinked and looked through the letter again. A placement at a school and he hadn't even passed his NEWTs yet! Draco looked up at Healer Levy and his face must have showed something of the shock and gratitude that he felt because Healer Levy smiled at him kindly.

"You didn't have to do this," Draco whispered.

"No," Healer Levy whispered. "You're quite right I didn't have to-I did it because I wanted to, Draco. You're no longer my patient as of five minutes ago and I spoke to my sister-in-law because I saw how dedicated and how much work you put into your own mental health and if you put just one _bit_ of that into the classroom I know you will be a very good teacher."

Draco looked down and bit nearly clean through his lip to keep from showing any emotion. Finally he looked up and nodded briefly. "I supposed I better go before your next appointment, Healer," he said. Healer Levy nodded. "Goodbye Draco and I won't say good luck because you won't need it."

Draco touched the doorknob and stopped. He turned around and looked at Healer Levy's bald, inscrutable face and his funny rimless plastic Muggle glasses. "Goodbye sir," he said. "And thank you- for everything."

"You are _so_ bloody lucky," Susan sighed, looking over Draco's letter from the nursery school with greedy eyes. "I haven't even given a _thought_ to where I'm going to send my applications."

Draco snatched back the letter and slid it back into the folds of his robes. "Well, be on probation and end up in therapy and perhaps you'll end up with a kind-hearted Healer who'd be willing to help you out."

Susan rolled her eyes- after so many months of being Draco's friend she had gotten used to his sarcastic retorts and snide brand of humor-although in the begining it had been rather funny to watch her apologize and watch her step about the mildest things that he brought up. Instead she leaned back in their booth in the designer tea shop that had opened on Diagon Alley just after the war- the tea shop catered to the Ministry crowd and the local business people with exotic, overpriced teas. Susan couldn't get enough.

"What are you going to specialize in?" Draco asked, taking a sip of his jasmine tea-he liked it well enough with a mound of sugar but the green tea that they had had last week had been entirely more appetizing.

"I was thinking English and foreign languages," Susan said. "I know I'm waiting until the final moment but I can't think with all the NEWT information I shoved in either ear. Since I already know Latin and English as _well_-I can do that. I'm just so bloody worried that I can't pass the potions practical. It's getting so that everytime I just see a knife I start twitching."

Draco laughed. "I'll give you my NEWT potion score if you swap me your score in History of Magic-I tried two times last week to open the textbook but I fell asleep. That sodding textbook should be patented as a sedative."

"What should be patented as a sedative?" Algernon asked, sliding in next to Draco in the booth. Draco scrunched his nose but passively accepted the peck Algernon placed on his cheek-if he didn't Algernon tended to kiss him quite shamelessly while making all sorts of _noises_ in order to make a scene.

"History of Magic," Draco said, taking a sip of the tea. It had gone cold and vaguely reminded him of something that had once been in Teddy's nappies-thank goodness that Teddy had been toilet trained recently.

"I've got to go," Susan said, clunking a few coins on the table. "I'm meeting that old fusspot Hermione Granger for a meeting-she's trying to get some legislation passed and she's looking for support from all the old families. I tried to tell her that I really don't know anyone or anything but she talked me into a corner."

"I'm surprised she didn't talk you into a better outfit," Algernon sassed. "Those robes and that hair-no, no-you look like a crup's dinner."

Draco snorted and Susan gave them both the two-fingered salute before stolling out.

"I got an offer for a teaching post," Draco said, turning to look at Algernon. "It's for a nursery school in London."

"Nursery school?" Algernon asked, taking a sip of Draco's tea and making a face. "Good lord that tastes like arse. I thought you wanted to teach at one of the prepatory academies?"

"I do," Draco sighed. "But I also have to comply with the terms of my parole _and_ I need the work experience and I doubt being Draco Malfoy that I'm going to be able to stroll into a prep academy and just demand a position. At least this way I'll have some decent experience under my holster before I go off applying at different places."

"Fair enough, I suppose," Algernon sighed. Draco still found it ironic that his boyfriend, an Auror who was an arresting officer on his case could find his rather lax treatment by the outside world unfair. Draco thought himself that it was a case of _love being blind_-and then he turned off that thought. Algernon had never said that, they never even _slept_ together yet. Yet everything felt as though it was on the precipice of just happening, and with the gentlest push the wheels would start in motion.

"Well," Algernon said brightly. "Do you want to come away with me?"

"What?" Draco spluttered. "Are you _mad_?"

"That's entirely debatable," Algernon said airily. "Also if I knew you were going to react like that I would have waited for you to take another sip of that horrible piss-like tea. The reason I'm asking is that my parents are going to be out of Landsdowne for the weekend holiday and Susan and I were going to go up to go riding. I was hoping that you and Mrs. Tonks and Teddy would come along and we could make a three day thing of it."

And there was the push. Draco put his hand over Algernon's on the countertop. "Alright."

"Alright?" Algernon parroted back hopefully.

Draco nodded. "Of course."

* * *

><p>"Stand still, Teddy," Aunt Andromeda said, buttoning up his tiny robes. Teddy wiggled out of her arms and tried go rush down the hall but Draco stood in the doorway and tried his sternest expression. With both adults against him Teddy gave in, staring morosely at his feet as Aunt Andromeda did up the last buttons of his robes and gave his hair a good brushing. Draco wasn't sure why Aunt Andromeda didn't just do a grooming charm on Teddy-in about ten minutes he was going to look as raggedly as he had to begin with.<p>

"How much time do we have until the portkey activates?" Aunt Andromeda asked, stolling into the small kitchen to make sure she had not left the Muggle hob on. Draco rolled his eyes-if the Muggle appliance had been left on any time in the world he doubted it would be now-as she had already checked it _twice._

"You've got another two minutes to check the refigerator and the owl if you'd like," Draco answered back cheekily and Aunt Andromeda put her hands on her hips and instead picked up her mending basket and her small purse. From it she withdrew her wand and took Teddy and Draco's hands.

"If we're done, gentlemen," she said grandly. "_Portus._"

They were in a grand entry way with an arched dome ceiling depicting the Fall of Troy. The floors were black and white marble tiles, and from either side swept a staircase with an oriental carpet in reds and golds. Four ionic columns supported the ceiling and were painted with gold leaf at the tips where baby cherubs blew trumpets uselessly in a soundless refrain. A portrait of a man with a handlebar mustache whispered _three Blacks if I'm not a Bones_ and then dashed out of his painting, dropping his quill to the ground and leaving his letter unpenned.

Aunt Andromeda looked over a Teddy who was terribly green. "I think he's sick."

Draco grimaced. He had never traveled well by portkey either, he had always had to close his eyes and pretend he was on a ride that would soon end to go through with it. He transferred Teddy from Aunt Andromeda's arms to his.

"Are you going to be unwell?" He asked Teddy.

Teddy nodded once-twice-and Draco transfigured the crystal dish on the little mahogany table into a caudron and stuck Teddy's head into it.

"I never did handle people's illness very well," Aunt Andromeda said, her hands twisting in her robes as though she would like to knit as she had when Draco had been ill. "Makes one so terribly _uncomfortable._"

"Oh dear," Susan said, rushing down the stairs. "Is he ill? Poor little mite-my nanny always used to feed me peppermints when I used to travel by portkey."

"Perhaps you should have told me that _before_ we left, Susan," Draco sighed.

"Hello Teddy," Algernon cried, coming in through the great doors behind them. "You're early! And you've got your head stuck in a cauldron-that's a funny way of saying hello-did you learn that in Kent? I heard wizards from Kent were savages, but really Teddy, this is beyond the pale."

A little echoing laugh emanating from the cauldron.

"Are you still sick Teddy?" Draco said, kneeling down to pat his back and trying not to imagine how sick Teddy had been and what he had been doing.

"No," Teddy echoed.

"Good," Aunt Andromeda said briskly, taking Teddy up and out of the cauldron. "You are going to sleep young man-you've had too much excitement for one evening and it's gone to your head. I'm going to take you to your rooms and we are going to sit quietly and listen to the wireless until tomorrow."

"_Gran_," Teddy pleaded but Aunt Andromeda's hard heart wasn't to be moved. Draco felt a little badly for Teddy, who could have been listening to the wireless at their cottage, but he knew that in the morning Teddy would have his picnic and his horse rides and so all would work itself out.

"Where did the cauldron come from?" Algernon asked curiously.

"It was a little crystal dish," Draco bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Algernon didn't and immideately burst into laughter. "At least we know you could pass that NEWT all right!"

Susan stood up from the blue velvet chaise lounge where she had been seated. Draco and Algernon had been sitting across from her on a blue and gold embroidered sofa-Draco thought that the Boneses rather liked gold, which was funny since they had rather a lot of it. He sank deeper down into the sofa until his head was in Algernon's lap and then he placed one of Algernon's hands there as a hint. It didn't take a moment before Algernon was rubbing his head. Draco looked up and beamed a smile at him and Algernon traced his lips idly.

"Al," Susan said. "Do make us some cocktails. Do you want some, Draco?"

"I suppose," Draco shrugged. He wasn't a fan of drinking in excess or anything in excess like anyone else, but he enjoyed a drink every now and again.

Algernon stood up and rolled Draco's head back off his lap and helped him to his feet. Draco rewarded him with a kiss which Algernon deepened almost immideately, taking advantage of the fact that Draco was standing to gently run a hand along his spine to just above the curve of his buttocks. Draco pulled away.

"The drinks, Bones," he muttered. "Humor your cousin."

"I'd rather not," Algernon sighed. "I'd rather be doing-"

"This damned wireless," Susan said. "I can't get it on the jazz station. Draco, come here and help me figure out the wireless."

Draco walked over to Susan and moved his hands along the dial trying to figure out where the station was that Susan needed. Right now he wasn't feeling too charitable towards her so his effort wasn't really much more than a half-fast attempt to appease her and then get her pissed and off to bed.

"_Voila,_" Algernon said, purposely pronouncing it vee-oh-lah. "Three sidecars. I haven't mixed a drink since Auror training so don't grumble if it tastes of shoe leather."

It didn't taste of shoe leather-it tasted of lemons and firewhiskey and cognac and it was really very good indeed. Draco sipped at it happily, but then he turned to Susan. She was watching he and Algernon with a very _Slytherin_ expression. All at once she began yawning and sighing as though she was very, very tired and began casting _tempus_ several times in quick succession. Finally Susan rose from the lounge and stretched lazily.

"Oh, I'm absolutely done in," Susan said. "Alcohol always makes me tired. I guess I'll see you two in the morning. Sweet dreams."

"That was the most unskiful seduction I've ever had the chance of being a part of," Algernon snorted. "I'm sorry about all that."

"She's my friend too," Draco waved that all away and then he decided. "How many seductions have you been apart of?"

"Not very many-three," Algernon made to touch Draco's hair and then moved his hand away as though he wasn't sure he had the right. "What about you?"

"Just the one," Draco said wryly thinking of Pansy Parkinson and the rush and horror of sixth year and the messy distraction he thought that sex would have provided. He wouldn't have called it a mistake-even to this day he thought of her and wished her well, but he wouldn't have chosen wartime for the ideal setting for the both of them to lose their virginities.

"I'll be good to you," Algernon said softly, tenderly. "I swear it."

"I know you will be," Draco nodded. "I know."

"Will you?" Algernon smiled as if all his Yules and Beltanes had come at once.

"Yes," Draco said, coming in close for a kiss. "Yes."

Algernon's bedroom was sparse since he no longer lived at home at Landsdowne. There were still a few possessions of his there, though-a yellow and black Hufflepuff pennant, a framed photo of his Auror trainee class, and a few texts from school. Draco undressed quietly, looking away from Algernon's strong forearms and washboard stomach and instead at his copy of _Advanced Potions for the Sixth Year._ Seeing that helped to steady Draco's nerves, if only a little.

Draco slid in beside Algernon on the crisp white sheets of his bed and he tried to ignore his nerves as Algernon rose above him. At first it was an impossibilty-he had never done this before and his whole body felt as tense as it had during those awful months just before the war. But then as Algernon kissed him the tension melted away into warm, soothing bliss and he felt comforted and beloved, like a treasured doll made of posable parts.

"You don't have to worry," Algernon said, kissing his temple, and it seemed as though it was from a great distance. "I've got you."

The fingers were cold and wet and it was uncomfortable. Draco tensed but it didn't hurt-it was stretching and _odd_ but not exactly painful. He felt open, and exposed. He looked away, and Algernon's hands brushed through his hair.

"Are you ready?" Algernon asked.

Draco nodded, just once.

It hurt. It was too much- It felt as though Algernon was plowing a space through into the heart of Draco and it wouldn't stop until he reached his core, and Draco had the sudden impulse to fight against it. Then it didn't hurt anymore. Draco cried up and arched, digging his hands into the sheets, his heels most likely making marks in Algernon's back.

The world faded away.


	12. Chapter 12

_Hello everyone! Massive love to all my reviewers, I just want to put out there to Tiliapetiolaris (love) and everyone else; yes that sex scene was supposed to be extremely awkward. I wanted Draco and Algernon to have little to no sexual chemistry and yet to be amazing friends. So it is a weird relationship because on one hand Draco has someone he can confide in and like, but not really love or enjoy intimacy with. I wonder who he will enjoy all that with? Hmmm . . . Also this chapter has one very awkward scene of heterosexual sex just for the people who thought Harry seemed really straight. Mwhahahaha._

* * *

><p>Chapter 12:<p>

"Yes," Laura moaned, preening as though she was on parade. _"More."_

Harry wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to give her any more when he was on the bottom, his hands bound to the posts of the bed with silk ties. Frankly Harry wasn't much into half the things that Laura insisted would _spice up their lovelife_ but he went along because he figured that's what a good boyfriend did. Besides, Laura was bloody hot and a minx between the sheets. She was every man's fantasy. _Right?_

So why was Harry thinking right now?

Harry thrusted his hips up once and then again, eliciting another moan from Laura, who tossed back her shimmering blonde hair and bounced up and down widely, as if in approval. Harry moved again, and again, closing his eyes and letting the natural rhythm of things take their course.

"_Ooh,_" Laura chanted, over and over. Sometimes Harry wished she was a bit more silent-but that was such a stupid thing to think-_wasn't it?_

"_Ooh, Harry._" Thank Merlin, she was done. Harry finished up and sank blissfully into the mattress, enjoying the afterglow.

Laura sank on top of him and after only a moment she untied his hands and gave him a brief peck. She rushed off into the bathroom, humming some song that was a top-ten single on the wireless. Harry disliked that too-he would like sometimes for her to lay down and cuddle with him. He had brought it up initially, and she had; but Harry could tell that Laura was only doing it with the patient tolerance that a mother would have had for an unruly child. Harry let it go, he figured that it was all for the best. Laura really was a good girlfriend, otherwise.

Laura came back with a glass of water for him and Harry smiled. "Thanks, honey." he said, knowing Laura's penchant for idiotic nicknames.

"No problem," Laura smiled blissfully. "I guess you're going to be going home for Yule, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry sighed. He had gotten three letters consecutively from different members of the Weasley family, not including Hermione. Harry knew he had to bite the bullet and go home again, but this time he really didn't want to. His relationship with Laura was early days and he wanted to go meet her family-she had extended the invitation, but if he went home he'd miss out. Also, Yolanda and Tony were having a do on Boxing Day and had invited Harry and Laura; even though Yolanda was still suspicious of Laura this was a major olive branch.

Laura pouted. "I suppose you're going to go home and get drunk and hook up with one of your English fans."

Harry laughed at the absurdity of that notion, although it was kind of attractive that Laura was jealous. "No, I'm not-they're stalkers, it's disgusting. Besides none of them are half as pretty as my American girlfriend."

Laura fluttered her eyelashes coyly. "You're just saying that so you can stay on my sweet side for Floo call sex."

"No, I'm not," Harry blinked owlishly-he had never even thought of that-did Laura want to try it? _Gods. _

"I'll miss you," Laura sighed, brushing her hands through Harry's wild hair. "It makes me want to open your Yule present early just to see what it is."

"You better not," Harry scolded. He had had to be put on a waitlist to get Laura the designer handbag she had wanted and inside he had put a fancy ring that she had pointed out that she admired on Fifth Avenue. Harry knew that Laura would like all of it but he wanted her to wait and to open it on a Floo call with him-not to get impatient and start wearing around the city now.

"Okay," Laura beamed, mollified, throwing her arms around Harry's shoulders and pressing her body into his chest. Yes, Harry would miss her. _A bit._

* * *

><p>"I'm gonna miss you so much," Yolanda sniffed into Tony's new dragonhide jacket. "You better owl us every goddamn day, Potter."<p>

"I will," Harry said, pulling Yolanda into a giant hug. It was such a bittersweet goodbye to leave New York on this extended holiday. Being away for two months meant that he would be away from his new mates for what felt like ages after being surrounded by their company day-in and day-out for nearly a year. But Harry desperately missed his old friends and his home as well.

"I'll miss you, man." Tony said gruffly, clasping Harry's hand. "Take care of yourself and piss in front of Buckingham Palace for me."

Harry laughed, but it was stiff. "I won't be anywhere near there, Tony."

"Just take care of yourself then," Tony said kindly. "Come back in one piece, alright."

* * *

><p>"Alright," Harry agreed, and picked up his portkey to go home.<p>

"Harry!" Charlie and Bill cried at the portkey terminal.

Harry rushed over to them. "It's so _bloody_ good to see both of you again!"

Harry had expected Charlie or Bill or all the Weasleys to look rather differently since a year had passed, but of course they didn't. A year rarely drastically changed people- Charlie was still dangerous but handsome looking with his dragon's tooth earring and Bill was still badly scarred-his face still mending from the aftermath of the war. Harry sighed. He felt differently inside but it was too much to imagine that because he had gone away and was now his own man that other people were now going to lay down their arms and act as though the war had never happened.

"How's America?" Charlie asked, ruffling Harry's hair into worse disarray. "Good," Harry beamed. "How's Romania?"

"Still spitting fire." Charlie shrugged. "Is our plan ready?"

"Almost," Bill replied cryptically.

"What plan?" Harry asked. Bill was stationed by the portkey terminal windows and he looked rather like a bloodhound that had gotten the scent of something foul.

"The paparazzi have gotten hold of the fact that your coming back here," Bill muttered. "Charlie's going to apparate with you back directly from the terminal and I'm going to cause a bit of a distraction here."

"Is that safe?" Harry asked curiously. There were quite a few children lurking about.

"Just a few Wheezes, it's harmless," Bill said with a glint of mischief in his eye. "See you back home."

As soon as Harry and Charlie arrived at the Weasleys Harry realized that literally everyone was there-there was Ron and Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Fleur and their little daughter, George and Angelina, Percy and Audrey, Charlie, and Ginny and _Theo Nott._ Harry blinked at wiry, smirking Theo Nott and his arm around Ginny like it had found it's home there a long time ago.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley cried. "You must be bone tired child-do you want a hot bath or something to eat-maybe a nice soup?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry laughed. "I'm running on the time difference and happiness. It's good to see all of you."

"We 'ave missed you, 'arry," Fleur smiled, rocking her baby girl. "You should not stay away so long again."

Harry sat down and took out his set of photographs to show the Weasleys. It felt as though he had been on extended holiday-the Weasleys were his family but the people he had met in New York City felt as distant as martians when he was here. It was funny that the opposite was true when he was in Manhattan-then he could not conceive of the Weasleys in New York, walking around Midtown and watching a play on Broadway. It felt as silly to him as magical people probably felt to Muggles.

"Who's this girl, Harry?" Bill asked. "She keeps popping up."

Harry took the photo. It was a photograph of Harry, Laura and Tony, probably taken after Auror training, since they were both wearing sparring gear, which was very tight. Tony looked his usual kindly and stylish self, and Laura was posing as sultrily as she could into the camera, leaning her arm on Harry's shoulder.

"That's Laura," Harry said, tossing the picture back to Bill. "She's going to be an Auror as well-we're dating."

"Oh _ho_," George cried, snatching up the photograph with glee. "Ickle Harry has got hisself a girlfriend. And _what_ a girlfriend."

"Leave Harry alone," Mrs. Weasley said mildly though she looked delighted that Harry wasn't all alone in the wilds of the colonies. "Let him be, he's only just arrived."

"Aw, Mum, he's already broken in," George whined. "If we can't tease him, who can we tease? Harry's family."

Harry grinned.

Yule at the Weasleys was wonderful-it was like coming home again. Mr. Weasley put up the Christmas tree only his sticking charm wasn't as good as he thought it could be and the tree sort of leaned to one side-he and Mrs. Weasley spent a good ten minutes quarrelling good naturedly about that before they finally left it alone. Angelina had brought her piano from home shrunk in her trunk and she and Fleur and Audrey had taken turns playing Yuletide songs, including a few Celestina Warbeck favorites for Mrs. Weasley who sniffed though _My Man's a Solider _and _He's Met the Hex Man Tonight. _

Everyone loved their American gifts as much as Harry loved his new black and green Weasley sweater. After dinner and the pudding Mrs. Weasley ,who had cooked everything along with Fleur's help, went to have a lie down with baby Victoire upstairs and Mr. Weasley went to putter outside with several of his new Muggle gadgets that his sons and Hermione had gifted him in his shed. That left the younger generation to put on the wireless and have quite a few drinks of the wassail that George and Ron had made secretly in caldrons in the back of the Wheezes in order to hide it from their mother who would never let them have more than a few sips of mullied wine on a sacred holiday.

After a few drinks of George's wassail Harry was sure he was going to meet the Hex Man tonight he because was so bloody pissed. He walked out into the Weasley's back garden, hoping that the cold air would sober him up.

"Harry," Ginny said. She was standing in the shadows in a cloak lined in fox fur and she was smoking a cigarette. Harry had never known her to smoke-it was almost like watching a masquerade.

"Hello," Harry said numbly. "How are you?"

"Good," Ginny said simply, exhaling smoke into the night air. "How do you find New York? I enjoyed reading about it from your letters."

Harry winced. That was a cut if he ever heard one-he hadn't written Ginny not even once-only a card on her birthday. Merlin, he felt like a cad.

"I'm sorry, Gin," Harry said biting his lip. He felt entirely too drunk to be having this conversation. "I should have written, I should have Floo called-"

Ginny pulled on her cigarette and a moment later exhaled. "What for?" She said sharply. "At least let's be _brave _we are Gryffindors-I doubt you know me. For you I was always an extension of my brother-Ron's little sister more than I was ever Ginny Weasley, witch and human being. I don't think you even know my favorite color or my favorite play and we dated for a year. Which is sort of pathetic because we've known each other ages. I just thought you'd do the decent thing and at least try to be my friend after the breakup, Harry."

Harry winced. Ginny did have a point-he had dated her because it had been the easy thing to do; _not_ because it had been the right thing to do and he had regretted doing that to her. He wasn't sure if he did that because she was Ron's sister, or a friend, or available, but it hadn't been right. As for the rest, he should have at least tried a friendship with Ginny, even though that _was_ a two-way alley. She could have called or written him at any time as well.

But there was no use talking about that now-it would only be an argument or a scene and they had both moved on.

"Are you happy, Ginny?" Harry asked instead, smiling at her hopefully.

"Happy?" Ginny barked out a smoke filled laugh. "Oh, you mean with Theo? Yes, I suppose I am. Theo's very good to me-he's a very stable person, very clever and calm-after wars end, Harry, no one wants to be shackled to an unpredictable hero."

With a toss of her red hair Ginny stubbed out her cigarette and walked into the Burrow, finally having the last word over Harry.

* * *

><p>Harry went over to Mrs. Tonks' for Boxing Day rather nervously. He knew that a few months was like years to a toddler and Teddy was nearly three now-even though he saw Harry once a week through a fire for a chat; Harry wondered if he would be able to put together the fact that the bloke that talked to him and asked after him in fuzzy green shapes was the same bloke who was coming over to his house for day-old pudding and to see all the gifts that Father Christmas had left under his tree. Harry apparated along the pathway to Mrs. Tonks' cottage and smiled. Last night it had begun to snow during the early hours of the morning and so while they hadn't had a white Yule, they certainly had had a white Boxing Day to wake up to. The scene was beyond picturesque as Harry made his way to the little cottage-it looked like the gingerbread houses that the Durselys had been so fond of making and that Dudley had been so found of eating, with rather a lot of icing on Mrs. Tonk's strong stone roof. From the chimney emanated a healthy puff of green smoke as Mrs. Tonks' Floo fire worked overtime to keep both the family warm and answer well-wishing calls.<p>

Harry made his way to the door and knocked his Wellies against the old wood, smiling at the _Happy Yule_ written in a childish hand as though an adult had guided a quill on the front door. He hadn't been more excited to see Teddy in ages.

Mrs. Tonks opened the door. "Harry," she smiled. "How good of you to come-you're the last one of our little merry party."

Harry looked at her bewilderedly until he walked into the cottage. Susan Bones was sitting in front of the telly, and unlike the last time he had seen her, her short boyish hair had grown out into a smart bob. She wasn't wearing robes this time either-instead a pretty red dress with long sleeves that matched her sharp red lipstick. Cuddled on her lap was Teddy.

"He fell asleep, poor love," Susan smiled. "He's been so excited with the anticipation of seeing you that he's quite knocked himself out."

Harry smiled at Teddy's huddled figure. To Harry he looked enormous-nothing like the baby he had left behind a year ago. Harry reached out and touched his turquoise hair carefully, not wanting to disturb whatever sweet slumbers Teddy was having.

Mrs. Tonks came in the room and clucked her tongue. "He won't wake-he's a Black; we'll sleep through everything. I'll take him upstairs-don't worry Harry, he'll be up in about an hour or so."

Mrs. Tonks slung Teddy up and into her arms and disappeared up the stairs taking a bit of Harry's heart with her. Slowly Harry turned to Susan Bones. "Hi Susan," he said lamely, not sure at all what to say to Susan under the circumstances.

"How is New York, Harry," Susan said archly, reaching into one of those quilted purses that Laura had wanted so desperately. Harry had always thought that on Laura they would have looked a bit like someone playing pretend, but on Susan it looked like an extension of her personality.

"Good," Harry said. "I've met a lot of amazing people and I'm quite enjoying my classes-"

Malfoy came rushing down the stairs, wearing a red Auror Academy hoodie, a pair of extremely tight jeans and nothing else. Harry stared at him. Had Malfoy joined the Aurors? Harry felt a bolt of extreme jealousy lace through him at the idea of that-how could Malfoy, who had been involved on the _other_ side of the war manage to secure a position that Harry hadn't been able to secure himself? Harry had thought it had been because of his fame but Malfoy was just as well known, if only because of his notoriety.

"How's your hangover?" Susan asked Malfoy sweetly as he sank into a recliner.

Malfoy held up two fingers and pulled the hood of the hoodie over his head. "Remind me never to go to Landsdowne again during Yule-your uncle mixes drinks like Snape used to brew potions."

Susan laughed. "Surely it wasn't bad as all that."

Harry looked at Susan oddly. Wasn't she in a relationship with Malfoy? Wouldn't she know if Malfoy had gone to see her relations and how it had went?

Just then a muscle-bound bloke came bounding down the stairs. He was a handsome, pleasant sort of looking wizard; the sort of fellow that you saw all around the bullpen and in gymnasiums in New York City-the type that had a thick neck and looked as though he spent most of his waking hours in a weight room, and quite enjoyed drinking those protein supplement potions that most Aurors never swallowed down because they were so chalky. He was wearing a plain grey t-shirt that looked as though it would rip if he should so much as _think_ about flexing a muscle and a pair of baggy sweats that said _Auror Academy No. 22 Bones._

"I'm making sidecars," the bloke said cheerfully. "Do you want one, love?"

"Oh, bugger off," Malfoy cried, getting up and following the bloke into the kitchen. "You and your bloody sidecars. I'm not going to Transfigure lemons if we don't have any."

"But we already buggered twice today," the man said sweetly and Harry coughed on some saliva that went down the wrong pipe. "Unless that's an offer for a third and in which case I could do without the audience."

"_Shut it _liar," Malfoy laughed, poking his sides. "Bloody Potter is here and the last thing I need is you too to deal with."

Harry turned away, grimacing as the bloke kissed Malfoy on the cheek.

"My cousin," Susan smiled. "Algernon Wallace Bones. He'll eventually come up for air and introduce himself but I doubt it will be anytime soon-he and Draco are quite fond of each other. My Aunt and Uncle are ecstatic you know-they're very progressive about the war movement, so they think it's delightful having a former Death Eater in the family. A certain cache or something like that. What do you think about the war movement?"

"Er," Harry said dumbly, trying _not_ to watch Bones and Malfoy in the kitchen as they elbowed each other and laughed. "I don't really know. It's not covered in New York."

"Oh," Susan sniffed as though Harry had said he had never heard of water being wet. "Well, I suppose people would choose to remain _ignorant _there."

"Drinks for getting drunk on," Algernon Bones sang holding out a tray of four sidecars. Harry took one gratefully and exited the couch so that Malfoy and Bones could sit with each other. Malfoy plopped down next to Bones and smirked in Harry's face, putting his bare feet in Bones' lap. Bones played idly Malfoy's still-brown hair with the same awed expression that Pansy Parkinson had wore sixth year. Harry looked away, annoyed for some reason, and into his drink.

"So, you're an Auror," Harry said when the silence finally became too weighted. "I went New York for that."

"_Really,_" Bones said with the false interest that the women journalists on the WWN often saved for their most boring human-interest pieces. "Do tell us more." Malfoy snickered and even Susan hid a smile. Harry glared-he wasn't sure if Bones was making fun of him or _with_ him but frankly he didn't care to know. Being an Auror had been his dream since he had thought of careers in the wizarding world and he'd didn't like someone belittling that-even a fellow Auror.

"Oh," Susan _tsk'd_, "Leave off Al-not everyone gets your sense of humor right out the gate. I'm sure that Harry just wanted to commiserate about the boredom of being on the job, stake-outs, that sort of thing."

"There aren't any," Bones said grandly and Harry wanted to scream. "You just walk around all day looking like a cardinal or a Muggle stop light and beautiful young men simply fall into your lap like bits of stardust from the heavens," And with that Bones gave Malfoy such a sickly sweet expression that the urge to scream quickly transmuted itself into an urge to be sick.

"Look who's awake," Mrs. Tonks called out. Teddy walked carefully down the stairs, taking each one at a time. At the foot of the stairs he stared at Harry and tilted his head, as though confused, his hair changing from brown to red to golden before he toddled over to where Susan was seated.

"Story," Teddy demanded, and then when Mrs. Tonks stared at him, he amended. "Please, Susan."

Harry felt his heart sink to his feet.

"But Teddy," Susan said reasonably, turning Teddy so that he would once again see Harry's face. "Harry has come a long way to see you-all the way from America. Can't Harry read you your story today?"

"_No,_" Teddy huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at Harry as though Harry was the _Shropshire Severing Hex-er _brought to life in his home. Then he turned to Malfoy and gave him the most woebegone expression.

Malfoy sighed. "Oh, just read it to him, Susan. Potter will understand."

Harry did understand-mentally. But his heart felt as though it were breaking into a million pieces to watch Susan Bones read to Teddy while her cousin and Malfoy cuddled in close and played happy families. No-they _were_ happy, Harry could tell. Everyone was happy-the Weasleys, and Teddy and even pretty Malfoy and his marble statute of a boyfriend. Everyone was happy and moving on with their lives. And Harry felt like a leaf blowing in the wind between England and New York.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Hey everyone! I can't believe how many new followers I've gotten this chapter- wow, thank you, you guys! I hope you'll review some time, it would mean the world to me. _

_I'd also like to thank girls love girls for your review and everyone else for feeling for Harry- he'll be fine soon enough he's just bumbling a little, maybe he'll bumble right into Draco. ;D Until then, enjoy and review xx_

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><p>Chapter 13:<p>

"Have you heard anything?" Susan asked, sliding into their usual booth at the tea shop, her face a tense mass of nerves.

"Nothing," Draco said shortly. He was on his third iced chai of the day and the caffeine boost was doing nothing for his ill humor.

"Merlin," Susan sighed, drumming her fingers along the tabletop. A squat witch in light blue robes slid over to their booth to take Susan's order. "I'll have a green tea latte, and two croissants, please."

"I'm not hungry," Draco sniffed, looking out the window to watch the crowds as they scattered along the high street into Twilfits' and took shelter from the storm under the huge magenta awning of the newest Weasley joke shop. Draco rolled his eyes at that and turned back to Susan who was looking at him with all the impatience of a spoiled younger daughter of one of England's best wizarding families.

"You've _simply_ got to eat," Susan said primly. "I don't want to hear my cousin's hysterical lunatical rantings if you do not."

Draco felt his face heat even as he bent it to pick up the croissant. "There isn't a word such as _lunatical_," he drawled. "And you want to be an English teacher."

They went right back into the tension with that. It had been a fortnight since they had sat the NEWTs-two weeks of waiting and wondering and biting through their lips after the holidays. Susan had even gone to the Bureau of Education at the Ministry and used the pull of her last name to find out whatever she could but she had been neatly and systematically rebuffed. _It will take anywhere from two to four weeks as it says on the brochure, Miss Bones_, they had told her. Now they were simply in a limbo of a waiting game, with their results coming as soon as they went home or as far as another fortnight.

It was driving Draco mad.

"I don't think it will be much longer," Susan said, playing with the crumbs on her little paper plate. "I just have a feeling-that this week will be our week."

"You had that same feeling last week," Draco rolled his eyes, "And all we've got is nothing to show for it. I think we'll be one of the last groups sent letters, Bones, because we were adults who sat the NEWTs, not student applicants."

Susan sighed again, grimacing into the green sludge of her tea. Finally she said, "At least you don't have to worry about applications-at least one of us has got a placement straightaway. I haven't even begun to think about it."

Draco stared at nothing in front of him. The offer for the nursery was only _contingent_ on his scores being similar to his OWLs-scores he had sat when his life had been stress free and he had had scores of tutors and the luxury of being his father's only pampered son. Draco was sure he had done well on the NEWTs, but he had studied for those alone with Susan in libraries or his aunt's flat with none of the support he had once had and frankly he had no idea if it was even possible for him to replicate that kind of industriousness now that his whole life wasn't made up of making his parents proud of him through his academic standing.

"We'll be fine," Susan said, trying to reassure herself as much as Draco. Draco arched an eyebrow but didn't add a thing- at this point it was pretty obvious that strong and clever facade that they both wore was a few days from cracking.

"Was there anything this morning?" Draco asked, coming in from playing with Teddy.

Aunt Andromeda shook her head. "Nothing. I'm so sorry, Draco."

Draco shrugged, and picked a biscuit off the hob where Aunt Andromeda had left them, and before Teddy could whine, broke off half of another and passed it to him. He had been doing everything he could in the last few days to distract himself from the news that he was coming increasingly to dread. He had cleaned and rearranged his room, taken Teddy to the park so many times that the poor child had stopped being excited for it and had begun anticipating the event, and Algernon was so sexually satisfied that he barely cracked a joke or made a witty retort.

Draco didn't know _what_ to do. Two days ago Susan had gotten her NEWT scores and she had done really well-she had applied to two of the best prep academies in London and one in Scotland straightaway, but Draco _still _was waiting. Now he was certain it had something to do with his parole or his name. What Draco couldn't be sure, but something, some trickery that the Ministry had concocted at the last minute to bar him from actually perusing his career, which would mean that he would automatically violate his parole and be sent to jail.

"It_ will _come," Aunt Andromeda said, patting the seat of the floppy old sofa until Draco sat down next to her. "You must relax, and when you're not expecting it-it will." Draco shook his head. "I see it in my dreams, even now."

Draco tried to lose himself in Aunt Andromeda's latest soap, but it felt as though they all had the same storylines-a beautiful girl from the wrong side of the small town falls in love with the hero who in some way was important. Usually there was a husband to hold her back, a bad guy to make her life miserable, and about a thousand tossed in and about side characters of which no one gave much importance. Draco sighed, listening to the endless _click-click-click_ as Aunt Andromeda knit Teddy's gladiator a little sweater. Draco wondered if the gladiator or Teddy would be particularly grateful for _that_ new addition.

Aunt Andromeda laughed. "Why don't you go and check the afternoon post, hmm? It'll do you some good to actually check yourself for a change and see that your letters aren't being held hostage somewhere in the cottage."

Draco laughed-he hadn't thought of that one yet, but he was about three steps and two stiff drinks from concocting that absurd notion.

"I think I'm going to have to," he said, heading off towards their makeshift owlery but also making sure not to block the telly from Aunt Andromeda's keen view.

Draco took the stairs two at a time up to the spare bedroom just off of his own that Aunt Andromeda used for odds and ends and said would eventually be Teddy's _grown up_ bedroom when he outgrew the nursery. On that windowsill either Aunt Andromeda or her late husband had set up a small post for the owl to land on, complete with a little basket of owl treats which dispensed themselves from an overhead bin. Draco thought it was a rather ingenious way of handling the post in a small home where there wasn't the space or the servants to deal with an owlery.

There was post. Draco took it all down the stairs. He didn't-he couldn't deal with it all at once, not on his own. It felt as though his insides were rioting-as though he was going to be ill.

Aunt Andromeda was waiting at the foot of the steps with Teddy by her side. They both looked up at him hopefully. "Is it there?" Aunt Andromeda asked.

Draco bit his lip. "I haven't checked."

"Well," Aunt Andromeda said briskly, "No point in doing that until you've had your tea. I'm going to make us some sandwiches, and then we'll look through what needs looking through. Are you hungry, Teddy?"

"Yesh," Teddy lisped around his thumb-a habit poor Aunt Andromeda was doing her best to break him of.

"Now, just slide the post over, Draco-" Aunt Andromeda cautioned as she slid the tea service onto the table.

The mail fell to the floor and Draco bent over to pick it up. _National Wizarding Bureau of Education. _Draco bent down and picked up the rather thick envelope.

"It's here," he said and his voice sounded as though it came from a long distance.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_The Bureau of Education would like to Congratulate you on your NEWTs for the Educators degree (NEWT-Ed). Over 200 witches and wizards sat this distinguished examination but only twenty percent passed, making your Honor Degree all the more rare and all the more a triumph. We look forward to following your success in your chosen specialization (pre-Arthimancy) in due course._

_Best,_

_The Extended Board of Education._

_Below Note Your Final Grades:_

_English: O_

_Potions: O+_

_Latin: E_

_Arthimancy: O+_

_History of Magic: E_

"I bloody well passed," Draco screamed holding up the paper. "I got honors, Aunty! I got my NEWTs with Honors!"

"Language, Draco," Aunt Andromeda chided, but she was too busy bustling over to where Draco was standing. She took the slip of paper from his hand and read through it quickly. Draco knew the moment when she got to his grades because a hand went up to her chest and she cried _oh my_ and wrapped an arm around him, laughing.

"I'm going to bake you a cake," Aunt Andromeda sniffled, looking suspiciously like she was about to cry. "Oh, nevermind that-we are going to _buy_ a cake, and Teddy can have two slices if he likes-his cousin is going to be a very famous Arthimancy Professor, and we are going to celebrate. You must Floo call up Susan and your Mr. Bones and tell them the good news, Draco."

"Aren't you running a bit ahead of yourself, Aunty?" Draco laughed, relaxing now that his NEWTs had come in. He had a job and he had his grades and as for the rest it could all get run over by a Muggle bus for all he cared at the moment.

"I am _not_," Aunt Andromeda said, pulling out all the pride of the Blacks to look dignified despite her tearstained face. "I just don't want Algernon to have to miss out because of a work conflict. Do go and firecall him, Draco."

Draco went to the fire in the sitting room and threw in a bit of Floo powder before calling out "Ministry of Magic-Auror Department." Draco hated calling there, every time you called it went straight through to dispatch and while some of the girls in dispatch were friendly enough the majority of the blokes who had the job where disaffected losers who hadn't made the cut for the Auror program and looked at someone like Draco as far game for a hard time on a long afternoon.

After a few moments of the fire swirling a sickly green Cho Chang came to the call. Draco had originally known her as that bint who had ran after the Hufflepuff who died in the Triwizard Tournament and then the one that Potter had ran after for a bit before he'd gotten interested in Weasley's sister, but she was actually rather a decent person. She smiled companionably into the fire, probably happy to see it wasn't another maimed individual screaming for help.

"Looking for Bones?" She asked.

"It's not a big deal," Draco immideately disclaimed-the last thing he wanted to seem like was the sort of clingy significant other who Floo-ed work all day long.

"Not at all," Chang said. "He's just come in from the field-I'll let him know you want to speak with him."

A few more moments passed before Algernon got to the Floo during which Draco had to turn away from the swirling flames or he was certain that he was going to be ill.

"Draco?" Algernon called from around the crackling log. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Draco said turning around. "I just got my results in."

"Did you?" Draco was fairly certain that Algernon was beaming although one could never tell on a Floo call- it was another reason why he hated making them. "Well-were they all T's then?"

"Nearly," Draco laughed in blessed relief that that was beyond the realm of possibility. "I got my degree with honors. I could have done a little bit better in Latin, but I spent so much time revising for History that I-"

"Are you trying to tell me you got _honors_ and you're cross about your grades?" Algernon scoffed. "This is as unbelievable as the time you wouldn't let me chop off some of your hair for my side project in necromancy. I'm _just_ stunned, frankly."

"Shocking," Draco drawled sarcastically. "But I actually Floo called you to tell you that Aunt Andromeda wants you to come over tonight because she's buying a cake and all this, since she's so very very proud."

"I'm sure she's started scolding Teddy already to be more like his good cousin Draco," Algernon laughed. "Tell her I'll be by around six."

"Alright, Bones," Draco huffed, turning away from the flames with smothered grin.

Susan was far too happy for him. Draco grinned as she hugged him for what felt like the tenth time, nearly squeezing out all the air from his lungs.

"I _knew_ you'd do better than me," Susan laughed. Draco longed to correct her- in fact there had been times that they had both worried that they had gotten only a mess of trolls, but it was far too soon for reminiscences like those. Right now he simply allowed her to squeeze him once again while Algernon made smothering and choking sounds in the background.

"I _can_ hear," Susan cried, hitting Algernon with her purse. "Do you always have to take the piss out of everything, Al! I swear you're worse the older and happier you get."

Algernon beamed. "Thank you for keeping track baby cousin," he said. "And on that note, I have a little present for Draco."

Aunt Andromeda came in from the kitchen and even Teddy stopped singing the wrong words to the song on the radio, as if he could tell that something important was going on. Draco held his breath in. Something was bound to happen-something bad to wipe away all the good, something that would stride right in like the Dark Lord had in fourth year. Usually there were _signs_ but not always, not _always_ sometimes there was just the merest hint of a bad wind and the whole deck of Exploding Snap cards went _boom._

Algernon held out a little red and gold box for Draco to take. Draco opened it slowly, carefully. Inside there were two keys on a gold keyring, the D and A intertwined and sparkling with diamonds like stars.

"One is the key to my vault," Algernon said softly, "And the other is the key to my flat. So what do you say, Draco-will you move in with me?"

Draco picked up the keys-he had expected them to feel more weighted, more substantial than the lightness in his hand. Draco smiled into Algernon's eager blue eyes. "Of course," he nodded, allowing Algernon to sweep him up into a massive embrace.

Draco closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Algernon, letting him ground him in the moment as he found down any lumps in his throats or foolish reservations of feeling. Really, he was the luckiest person in the world.

_Wasn't he?_

* * *

><p>"Draco you've been staring into that salad as though it's got your Zodiac predictions for the next five years," Susan sassed, taking a sip of her lemonade cocktail which had something alcoholic and disgusting that Draco would never touch, let alone just barely after mid-day. "What's going on?"<p>

"Nothing," Draco looked up quickly. "I just probably should have gotten something more substantial than a salad, I suppose."

"Should have if my cousin's going to run you out of steam later," Susan winked. When Draco didn't immediately tell her off or snark something back Susan looked at him curiously. "Draco, please, we've been friends for more than a year, we studied for the worst exam in the history of mankind together and now we're practically family-can't you tell me what's bothering you?"

Couldn't he? Draco really didn't know _what _was bothering him, except that he felt as though he couldn't live with Algernon Bones. He had sat up all night three days ago and simply brooded on the topic before he had simply come to the conclusion that he felt like there were so many things Algernon just didn't know about himself-he didn't know about Draco's full extent in the war, although most of it had leaked rather nicely to the papers, and he didn't know about Draco's mental health problems. That bothered him the most, quite possibly of the list. Susan knew a bit of his issues-that he had seen a therapist, but she had sworn herself to secrecy. Draco had never told Algernon.

At first he had said it was because he thought their relationship was too casual, but that was a lie, even unto himself, from the outside Algernon had been nothing but honest and Draco had known what he had been getting himself into. Then he had admitted that it bloody well terrified him, but the right moment or the right words never came and so Draco felt eternally mute, like a tossed-about version of himself in sixth year.

Only this time he had no one but himself to blame.

_Gods,_ but this was a terrible character trait to have.

Draco looked up into Susan's sympathetic, yet worried expression. "It's nothing I have to tell you. It's more something I have to admit to Algernon-you know it already, the gods know you where at Hogwarts when the majority of it was occuring."

Susan's mouth opened in a perfect letter _O_. "Well," she said awkwardly taking a strong pull on her straw. "If we are going to talk about all _that_ I'm going to have another two of these."

Draco laughed.

* * *

><p>"I feel like I'm sneaking in," Algernon said, sliding in beside Draco on his bed. "You know I can count on one hand the times I've been in your room."<p>

"I'm surprised you can count up that high," Draco snarked and Algernon laughed.

"The student has surpassed the master," Algernon lifted both eyebrows as though he was impressed. "Now let's see what else you _Exceed Expectations_ in my little Malfoy."

Algernon pushed Draco gently down onto the bed and began gently kissing along just under his earlobe, following the path to his collarbone. Draco closed his eyes and let Algernon do whatever he wanted. He knew that he had Floo called Algernon here for an entirely different reason, but he allowed Algernon to undress him anyway-though he was ashamed of it he'd rather have one last good memory then a recollection of them simply rowing on their last day together.

"You're stressed," Algernon said, laying soft kisses along Draco's spine up to the knot of tension at the base of his skull.

"Not now," Draco whispered as Algernon began to move, but what he was really thinking was _not yet. _He pushed the crown of his forehead into the mattress and let the motions move his body up and away and out of this awkward state of fear and anxiety.

Afterward Algernon drew the sheet around himself and Draco and looked at Draco rather worriedly. "Something really is wrong- I thought you had just Floo-ed me over for a spot of mid-afternoon delight while Mrs. Tonks and Teddy went out to the shops, but it wasn't just that, was it?"

"No," Draco said. "Have you ever heard of Lithia water?"

"Merlin," Algernon said, tilting his body so that he could look at Draco's face. "What a question- I mean of course I have- I think all Aurors have, some poor blokes end up having to take it after seeing some gruesome atrocities committed on certain cases. But it's relatively rare. What got you thinking of Lithia water?"

Draco took in a deep breath and expelled it rapidly. "I've been taking it since the war ended. Honestly, I probably should have been taking it since I was a child. There's something not quite right about the way things were done around me-I suppose I can blame that for what I did, but really I had a multitude of chances to change, and I didn't- I was always very _damaged_. You know those stories that were printed in the Daily Prophet a while back-the court clerk who told all? All the things he said about me were true- and more- I suppose I've been an utter coward about the whole thing."

"Hey now," Algernon said, pulling Draco in close. "You didn't think I was going to up and leave you over the fact you've been traumatized by the war? Don't be ludicrous- half of London's still hex-shocked from the bloody war! And I _don't_ think you're being a coward- I think you're being very brave, telling me all of this when a proper Slytherin would have lied about the whole thing."

Draco gave a watery laugh. "And you're such a bloody Hufflepuff Bones-so loyal. I know I don't deserve you at all."

"Well," Algernon preened, "I'll hold you to that one for later. So are you going to move in with me now, or what?"

Logically there was nothing left in Draco's way, so he had to.

No, he wanted to.

_Right?_


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Hello everyone, I'm so so happy that so many people are following this story and are interested and have reviewed, it's so wonderful. I'm glad that nearly everyone is enjoying the pacing as well, but that's about to change! I think everyone's been waiting for this chapter for a long time, and I've been waiting to post it, so enjoy guys and please review!_

* * *

><p>Chapter 14:<p>

Harry slid silently into one of the open seats in the huge amphitheatre in the American Wizarding Congress. Today was their first day as second years and so their new instructor, Instructor Matherson, had gathered the entire year together to give a speech before they were to be set off into the field for their first real assignment. Harry couldn't wait. His whole body was thrumming with excitement at the chance to prove himself as a real life Auror in the biggest wizarding city on Earth. New York was going to be Harry's training ground and then he was going to come home and eventually become Head Auror when Robards retired one day-well, if he could make it through his first assignment, of course.

"Today we're going to separate the wizards from the squibs," Matherson spat out and Harry wondered idly what Hermione would have made of such a polarizing statement. "Most of you are going to be uncomfortable. Most of you are going to look damned stupid. Good. You think Aurors look like beacons of fucking mercy on the beat all day? Well we don't. So you better straighten up and fly _right_ because if you make one false move you are out of my _damned _Academy. Line up when I call your name!"

Matherson cast _sonorus_ and began calling names. Harry was upset to see that Yolanda was paired early on with a tall, thin bloke that Harry had seen in the gyms a few times but had never had the chance to actually speak to and a senior Auror they had never seen to before.

Harry looked around like mad for Laura. He hoped that she wasn't late but he hadn't been able to get through to her through the Floo this morning. Harry and Laura had had a massive row when he had gotten back from England in which she had accused him of all kinds of rot which wasn't in the least true, including sleeping with Ginny when she had seen Ginny's photographs among the Yule pictures of the Weasley family. Frankly Harry had been surprised that Laura hadn't accused Harry of sleeping with Susan Bones as well but perhaps Susan wasn't a perceived threat despite her more natural beauty.

"Potter, Harry!" Matherson shouted and Harry jumped up like a trained dog and grabbed his bag and rushed down to the floor of the amphitheatre. Matherson looked him over once as though he was unimpressed and then handed him a slip of parchment.

"This is your assignment, Potter," Matherson said with the same fierce pride as a member of the army doling out a task. "Complete it with Cowper and Rielley over there successfully and you will receive full marks."

Harry unraveled the parchment.

_From now on you and Senior Auror A. (Rielley) will move into housing with other Trainee C (Cowper), you will have NO CONTACT whatsoever will the outside world. Any contact is an IMMEDIATE T on this assignment and a possible suspension from the program. _

_The following is your assignment:_

_Trainee B(Yourself) and Trainee C must infiltrate a Potions smuggling ring which has been purported to be taking place in the basement of a nightclub in Chelsea. Infiltration will involve means of cunning, stealth and guile, as well as heavy Charm usage. Senior Auror A will ONLY be present at the assignment checkpoint for assistance and general guidance, NOT as a means of securing evidence, etc;_

Harry blinked, staring at the paper. This "assignment" didn't really tell him much about what he was supposed to do-go to a nightclub in Chelsea and uncover a potions smuggling ring. Harry frankly thought the whole thing was a bit out of his league, but then again he had done worse with Hermione's help, and he _had _been to nightclubs in New York plenty of times before.

Harry looked at the paper _no contact_. So he couldn't say goodbye to Yolanda or Laura, whom he could now see was standing with two very pretty brunettes. Harry hoped that they were all going somewhere safe, but then he mentally slapped himself-of course the Auror Academy wasn't going to send them off somewhere dangerous their first time out of the gate. Harry looked at his slip of paper again. It was probably likely someone had done some intel work on this place and he'd just have to stroll in and get what he needed and leave.

Harry _wasn't _nervous.

"We're leaving," Reilley said bluntly-like Malfoy's bloke, Reilley was another Auror who spent most of his time in a gym and whose neck was as wide as his head. "Too many of us to slide-along, so I've got us a portkey."

Harry wondered if he should tell Reilley that words weren't being rationed. He turned to look at Cowper, but Cowper was a skinny, scrawny bloke who looked as though he was still waiting to go through puberty. Harry thought he had probably gotten through to the Auror Academy on the merit of his brains as much as Harry had on the merit of killing an English madman.

They ended up portkey-ing to a small house somewhere in the outer boroughs. Harry had no idea where because he didn't know enough about New York geography, but he knew that in Manhattan he'd never seen enough space for a house to have both a small front and back yard. Reilley spelled open the door without bothering with a key like a civilized person and went straight to the loo, leaving Harry and Cowper with a slip of parchment on an end table.

_Continue with your assignment. Trainee B and Trainee C must now complete a female transformation using ONLY glamours. The use of polyjuice for this assignment will result in an immediate T. The trainee who performs most successfully under transformation is awarded extra credit._

_NOTE: If you are not sure which of you is more successful under transformation, please ask your Senior Auror A._

Harry passed the slip of parchment to Cowper. "I didn't take the NEWT in Charms," he said, not expanding on the fact that he hadn't sat _any_ of his NEWTs.

Cowper looked at the slip of parchment and bit his lip. "I think our assignment must have something to do with us passing as a couple-like we're going off to a nightclub but we must have to be able to pass as a couple in this environment as well, at least that's what I'm assuming. I have no idea."

Harry shrugged. "I'll be the lady if you like."

Cowper laughed. "If you want I'll try it on you first and then me and we can have Reilley judge-if he ever comes out of the bathroom. I swear he's got a phone in there."

Harry laughed at the idea of Reilley somehow managing a Muggle landline in a bathroom. He gamely sat down in a stool that Cowper found in the dining area of the barebones house and let Cowper get to work. After a long while Harry began to feel rather badly for Cowper-here he was doing most of the work while Harry was sitting around on his stool like a witch getting her hair _glamoured _on a leisurely Saturday afternoon.

"I can't figure out how to make your shoulders less," Cowper muttered making a gesture with his hands to show Cowper's own shoulders increasing and then decreasing in girth. "It's much harder than I thought it would be."

"It's okay," Harry said, looking down with shock to see that he had the outline of breasts under his robes. "Er-I think you should probably take these off now, Cowper."

"Oh, right," Cowper laughed. "How funny-you can't really touch them, but they look pretty real. Like an illusion. Never actually had the chance to do high level charms myself, I only took the class for the theory."

"Oh," Harry said lamely, not really interested at all in a class in which someone would discuss the theory behind charms which would change the way someone would look entirely. Although Harry _should_ probably have cared enough to search out a class like that-often enough his lack of Hermione-like brilliance had bit him in the arse, like now with the _glamours. _Harry sighed.

"Don't worry," Cowper said gamely. "I'll be the witch-it's obvious that's why they assigned me-though if we can't use any potions I can't speak at all, can I? I wonder-I guess you'll just have to be a very bossy sort of boyfriend or something."

"Thanks, Cowper," Harry said, although he wasn't quite sure exactly what he was thanking Cowper for. Instead he yawned heavily. "I guess we better go off to bed, yeah?"

"Goodnight," Cowper said agreeably, leaving Harry to search off his own room.

The club was thumping with a loud bass beat. Along the line heavily made up men and women in exaggerated costumes awaiting the approval of the bouncer in order to make their way into the nightclub. Almost straightaway Harry could tell that this nightclub was a wizarding one-the feel of magic in the air was as heady and thick as humidity just before a day of heavy rainfall. Right at his side Cowper shifted from nervously in his heels which Harry had helped him to put a cushioning charm in-it had been odd helping a bloke buy women's clothes and shoes and then having to refit them to his size-Harry wasn't sure _what_ he was supposed to learn as an Auror by playing seamstress but maybe by the end of the assignment all would be revealed.

As soon as the bouncer saw Reilley he waved Harry and Cowper inside and Reilley once again disappeared into the shadows-most likely to find their mysterious checkpoint.

Harry looked around the club. At first glance it looked like any other nightclub he had been to before-it had a long, sleek bar with a male bartender in a tight black shirt dolling out drinks to the patrons who slid up to him. Several of the women tried to chat him up but the bartender only batted them away with a good natured laugh. The dance floor was made up of clear bricks of what looked to be Lucite but what was probably some other wizarding material; and underneath had been fused in glitter which shimmered and flashed with the overhead beats of synchronized light charms.

Then Harry looked to the dance floor. Men were dancing with men. It was a _gay_ club. Harry felt his face heat up. How _could _he have been so stupid! All the signs were right in the assignment-one of the trainees had to cross-dress, the other had to be his "date." Harry felt like a right berk, now that he had realized that they had been set up to be placed in a situation to deliberately be uncomfortable and learn from it, just as Instructor Matherson said in his introduction speech for the year. Harry looked around to share a grin with Crowper but-he was _gone!_

Gods, Harry was going to _kill _Cowper when he found him-all they had to do now was get to the bloody basement of this gay club and-

Harry looked up. There were men suspended in cages over head. Right above him was one with cinnamon-brown hair cut to his pointed chin and deep blue eyes. He was lanky and fit, his body dusted with silver sparkles so that he seemed to glow like a Veela or some unearthly heavenly body. He danced along idly to the music, not paying much mind to what was going on, as if he was far superior to all the rest of them-he threaded his hands through the bars and arched his back to the beat with no real intention to seduce and yet Harry _could not_ look away. There was something about him, something grand and important and Harry knew that if he could just stand here and feel the moment he'd _understand-_

"Harry!" Cowper cried-he was wearing a pink feather boa that he had not come in with and his cheek was smudged with red lipstick. "Harry, we've got to find the basement door."

Harry rolled his eyes and followed Cowper's lead, trying to put the image of the dancing wizard out of his mind.

* * *

><p>"So where did you end up?" Yolanda asked Harry over a cup of coffee in the cafeteria once their assignments had been "debriefed"<p>

"A gay club," Harry snorted. He had no interest in telling Yolanda about how _illuminating_ his trip to the gay club had been-in fact he had no interest in telling anyone about that. His feelings toward men, or one particular man in a cage, were his own and private. Harry saw no need to make a spectacle over being curious about the goings on _on the other side of the platform_ as it where.

Yolanda laughed. "We got sent to a crack den in the Bronx. It wasn't that scary, I mean the house had free cable, although I did have to charm my arms to look like I injected Muggle drugs which was not fun. Wilson was my dealer."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I went in there thinking it was going to be a big fiasco and we were going to have to save the day. Of course they wouldn't send second years anywhere."

"Of course," Yolanda said dryly. "Where are you going tonight-it's Friday."

Harry groaned. Yolanda's enthusiasm for Fridays was only surpassed by her adoration for Happy Hours and free before a certain hour clauses. Harry didn't want to go out tonight, however. He had promised Laura that he would take her to the Muggle theatre before they had gotten in that row and now he was even more determined to stick by his word and show her that he was a good boyfriend. Quarrels or not, Harry really did care about Laura and he wanted things to work out with her, especially since they both worked in the same field and lived in the same town-he really thought they could make a go of things, if they put their minds to it.

"You're going to see _her_," Yolanda sniffed with all the disgust of the other woman. "I guess I'll see you on Monday, then."

Harry suppressed the urge to laugh. "Bye Yolanda."

* * *

><p>Harry apparated inside of Laura's Astoria Arms apartment. He was a little bothered that she hadn't waited for him at the apparation point so that they could slide-along together, but then again perhaps her assignment had been in the outer boroughs or even farther. Harry toed off his shoes and poured himself a glass of water from her refrigerator and decided to wait for her on her couch.<p>

After a few moments of sitting idly waiting for Laura to arrive Harry heard a crash and a girlish giggle. Had Laura been here all along?

Harry walked toward the bedroom from where he had heard the noise. What he saw made Harry stop and stand frozen. Laura was standing, entirely naked, her foot caught in one of her hideously huge ornamental vases, and _Instructor Matherson _was standing in front of her, his body wrapped in her faux silk bed sheets trying to ease the vase off her foot with his wand. Harry stared blankly. The scene was so much something out of a situational comedy that Harry wasn't sure if he should be heartbroken or offended at the humor in the way that he was discovering Laura's infidelity. But it _did_ hurt. Harry cared for Laura, despite all her flaws, and to discover that she was cheating with their professor was so horrible and so cliché as to be mind-boggling.

"Harry," Laura hobbled. "I can explain-"

Harry shook his head. "Don't bother."

Harry apparated to Yolanda's flat, praying to the gods that she was home. She was.

"Harry," Yolanda smiled brightly, but it faded once she saw the look in Harry's eyes. "We were going to stay in tonight-is something wrong you look like shit-"

"Laura is sleeping with Instructor Matherson," Harry laughed grimly. "I caught them pretty much in bed together."

"What the _fuck_," Yolanda cried, rushing to her kitchen to fetch the bottle of Odgen's. She quickly poured a few shots into plastic tumblers. "I'm so freaking sorry Harry, I don't even know what to say."

Harry swallowed down a burning sip. "I just want to go home, Yolanda. I just want to go _home._"


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has this story on alert and reviewed this fic. It's gotten to the time where Harry and Draco are in the same place and the same time and will constantly be around each other. I hope you guys liked the change of pace from the rush into bed, rush into love, rush into bonding fic. Also, Paperblank, thanks for your amazing review- I really wanted to make it two different places that you could feel, but still magical. I'm glad it worked out. Gingerbread cookies for everyone who reviews, and I'll post for you all the next time I have a break during these crazy holidays._

* * *

><p>Chapter 15:<p>

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_I was most pleased to see your NEWT-Ed scores as they were sent to me. As promised I have secured you a position as our Third Term Nursery School Teacher. Our Orientation is the 26th Aug. at 3pm, there is no need to wear dress robes. Please arrive about an hour early as I would like to talk to you privately._

_Best,_

_Livinia Hardwicke_

_Headmistress_

Draco looked over the letter carefully. He had gotten the position, now it was _keeping_ the position that was going to be part of the battle. He was no fool- Draco was sure that when the parents of the little five year olds that he was going to be teaching penmanship and basic arithmetic to found out that their teacher was that same devious boy who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts there would be a significant shift in the positive outlook in Ms. Hardwicke's notes and disposition toward him.

Still. Draco _wanted_ this. He hadn't sat the NEWTs and studied for bloody well near eight months to be made a fool of by the same over privileged people who used to beg for invitations to Narcissa Malfoy's garden parties. He was _going_ to teach these children how to spell basic words and tell them biased little historical stories just before naptime and make the best of this year before he could get a proper position at a prep academy. If he could survive a Dark Lord in his home, being hospitalized and his mind being invaded, and going through therapy for a year, a few infants were _not_ going to break him.

"You look very determined," Algernon murmured, pressing a kiss to Draco's temple. His breath smelled like the mint of the tooth cleansing spell he used, something Draco hadn't ever known about him until they had moved in together. "It's really quite attractive-I wonder if we have time for a shag before you give yourself an aneurysm."

Draco snorted. "I got the letter from the London Nursery School-I'm going to be teaching five year olds."

Algernon took the seat next to Draco. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Considering the fact that the school only has three, four, and five year olds, I'm overjoyed, really. At least these children are properly toilet trained and can carry on a decent conversation." Draco sighed.

"Teddy carries on a better conversation than most wizards I know, and _definitely _most Aurors. Especially Robards. _Good, good, Bones. Remember Bones, at any cost, hey? Keep it together, Bones._ I think someone gave him a motivational calendar one year and he ate it." Draco laughed.

Living with Algernon was actually blissfully simple. Algernon's family had a townhouse on Occasion Alley, which was straight off the Muggle neighborhood of Belgravia, and because Algernon was the eldest son the flat had been given to him as a gift at his coming of age along with a vault and some other odds and ends of which Draco was sure he didn't want to know, but certainly involved gold, knowing the Bones' penchant for it. The flat was beautiful and spacious which three floors, the top level of which was only used when the whole family was in town, and wonderfully appointed pre-Goblin War furniture, including a fairy blown chandelier in the foyer, velvet settees, and Draco's favorite-an enormous sleigh bed in the bedroom with a thick _lapiz lauzi _blue duvet, complete with permanent cushioning charms.

"When is your meeting?" Algernon asked from across the tea service. Draco had yet to see a house elf but he knew they were there- if they threw clothes about after shagging they ended up miraculously folded, and every morning and afternoon tea was served at the approrpiate hour without anyone asking.

"Three, but she wants to talk to me before," Draco said ominously.

"Probably just wants to remind you to share your biscuits with the other children like a good little Malfoy," Algernon cast _tempus_. "With that I must go, apparently we're getting a new recruit-someone foreign."

"Have fun breaking him in," Draco grinned.

"Oh I will," Algernon winked. "See you later."

Livinia Hardwicke was a middle aged witch with deep black hair streaked with white. It was tied severed back in a bun so tight it seemed as though it would probably rip the hair right out of her scalp if she were to undo it. Her robes were simple, pristine, and black and the only orientation she wore was a diamond and jade butterfly brooch at her throat. Draco knew that that was the emblem of the Avery family, which made her all the more intriguing.

"Draco," Ms. Hardwicke said simply, as though words were of no real use to her. "I see you've come on time. Good. I'm a great fan of punctuality."

Draco wondered what else she was a great fan of as he followed her down the large hallway of the London Nursery School. Once upon a time the school had clearly been a mansion of some sort, in the style of the Black House his ancestors had, and had been converted into a school. Many dying families had the traditions of doing such things as leaving an extra home, or all their land to charitable foundations; who often made them into orphanages or schools-Draco knew this because his father had often scoffed at the notion calling it a _pathetic tax break for the guilty. _Perhaps when he was fifteen he would have agreed with him, but at nineteen he was looking down at the little pegs in the corridor, with empty slots waiting to be filled with children's names for the year.

"This is my office," Ms. Hardwicke said, pointing to a heavy wooden door with a sign that simply stated _Headmistress._ "Would you please follow me?"

Inside the office was very well appointed with a lovely gas lamp and two green dragonhide highback chairs that sat one across from each other across a large lacquered table. In one corner of the room was a Floo and in the other was a large scroll top desk with the top rolled back revealing dozens of parchment pieces rolled, folded and tabbed for future reference.

Ms. Hardwicke took one of the seats and gestured to Draco to take the other. "Tea?"

"No, thank you." Draco replied.

"Hmm," Ms. Hardwicke replied, as though she approved of his response. "Well, I have to say you're one of the smartest young men I've ever taken on as a teacher here. Most young men that intellect go on to research or want to work part-time as they do their professorial degrees. But I can understand your lack of upward mobility as it where, considering the tense political climate. I understand you live with Algernon Bones?"

"I don't see the relevance," Draco replied shortly.

"Excuse me," Ms. Hardwicke said, in for her what was a kindly manner. "I only bring up your relationship because your detractors will. We at the school will protect you, but the best thing for you is to arm yourself, young Malfoy. You have been extremely wise so far in your friends, your family, and your personal life. I would ask you to please continue that course while you teach here. I know you might find me a bit exacting and rather fortright but I'd rather put my wand out and cast the spell now than be cursed later."

Draco nodded shortly. It was nothing he hadn't prepared himself for-the fact that there would be gossip and rumor mongering and at the slightest slip up the whole thing come sliding down on his head like sixth year but only exponentially worse.

"And if people remove their students from the school?" Draco asked.

Ms. Hardwicke folded her hands on the table in front of her, and her eyes took on a crafty gleam. "We operate on a grant given to us by a late donor, a person who simply stated that all teachers must be _of noble bearing._ This leaves quite a bit up to the discretion of the Headmistress. Have you ever heard of the Progressive Movement?"

Draco had. It was the movement that had saved him from a prison term, although he hadn't known it at seventeen. The followers of the Progressive Movement stated that reforming an individual through good deeds, kindness, and equal opportunity would further the chances of repairing the wizarding world in the aftermath of the second Voldemort War than simply imprisoning those who had committed crimes without taking into account the circumstances around why they did such acts.

Draco thought personally some of it was rather a lot of rot- some people were simply irredeemable and would go on doing whatever they wanted no matter how much therapy or probation you threw at them. But then again he had been _gifted_ this second chance, and though bile rose in his throat at the idea of being grateful for it, he certainly didn't disagree with the fact that it had shaped his life.

"Very well," Draco said softly.

"I'm glad, " Ms. Hardwicke said. "I want my students to learn about mercy, Draco. I want them to understand kindness and redemption and the goodness that comes from self-sacrifice. The best time for someone to learn this is while they are young and the mind can be molded to change- adults can be so cruel and divisive. And I think that the best person who can teach them these traits will be you yourself-someone who has suffered most publicly-but can teach them most honestly."

* * *

><p>Draco apparated outside the wards of his aunt's cottage in Kent-even though she hadn't changed the wards against him, he certainly <em>did not<em> want to give her a fright whilst she was feeding Teddy or listening to one of her infamous soaps. Draco desperately needed to be around someone and Algernon's lovely townhouse in Belgravia still didn't feel like home, especially when he wasn't in it. Susan was away on an interview in Scotland for a teaching position for a pre-Hogwarts academy in a town just outside Hogsmeade and there was no one to get himself out of his mind with his own nerves.

Draco had rushed home and thrown on Algernon's sweatpants (which he would _never _admit he wore because they smelled like his boyfriend) and a t-shirt and decided that sitting there and waiting for something to come along to make him less nervous about teaching next Monday was about as likely as gaining back his fortune at this point.

"Cammy Chameleon," Draco shouted. "Come here, I want to see what color your hair is!" Teddy came running from wherever he had been with a giggle and attached himself to Draco's leg. With a laugh, Draco lifted him up into the air. "You're getting far too fat for this, my dear Lupin," he muttered. "Maybe just another year before my back gives out. First we go-up-up-"

"_Up_," Teddy squealed as Draco balanced on his tip toes.

"And then we go?" Draco prodded.

"And then we go _d-down,_" Teddy said with a hiccough of anticipation as Draco dusted his hair along the entryway floors, back and forth, before flipping him over and standing him upright again.

Teddy gave out a little sigh of contentment. "Draco," Teddy said, pulling his arm toward the sitting room. "Come _on._"

"All right," Draco said companionably, certain that he was going to be trapped into playing with Roman legions and gladiators for as long as Teddy liked or until Aunt Andromeda took pity on him and offered him a bit of tea and sympathy.

He was wrong. It was Potter.

Potter was sitting on his aunt's couch, his blankly bland expression so painted on and false that Draco wondered why he had even bloody bothered and hadn't just attempted to curse him like when they were children. Potter didn't change much but Potter was that type of person-eternal like rocks and wood and water- he existed because he was necessary, like all heroes were. Draco wondered why people found him fascinating- this frumpy boy with messy hair and Muggle glasses and wiry muscle. He was typical, simple and standard; but people were so willing to lay down their life for Potter's cause during the war, and even before then they had been so willing to drop everything and be Potter's friend during school.

Draco forced himself _not _to roll his eyes in Potter's face. That was what Potter expected, and frankly he didn't want to give Potter the satisfaction.

"Malfoy," Potter said, a little stiffly. "How are you?"

"Well enough," Draco drawled. If the tension was any thicker they could roll it out and bake it and have it as a cake with tea. "You're in England."

"Yes," Potter said, a trifle shortly. "I'm going to join the Aurors."

Draco froze. Potter was joining the Aurors. _Impossible._ It was fine when Potter was an Auror on his own time over in America where he hurt no one but himself and a bunch of colonists, but now he was coming back to England-to Algernon's Auror regiment. _No._ That was not bloody on- Potter could risk his own life back and forth across the Hudson River if it pleased him but he was not going to risk Bones' as well, not if Draco had anything to say about it!

"Excuse me," Draco said shortly. "I'll go and see my aunt."

Aunt Andromeda was in the kitchen listening to the wireless, mindlessly mixing ground beef with her wand. She looked up and smiled pleasantly when she saw it was Draco.

"Darling," she smiled. "I didn't hear you at all-how was school?"

"I'll tell you all about it later," Draco frowned. If _Potter_ was going to be hanging about the cottage he was going to have to write to his aunt in order to see her and Teddy-like taking a number at Florean Fortescue's in the summer. It was utter madness. Draco glared at his dark head and wished him back to the States where he belonged.

Aunt Andromeda sighed. "He came this morning, Draco. I think something terrible happened to him in America- something to do with a girl or the press. Nothing can cheer him up, not even Teddy. I almost feel sorry for him."

Draco huffed and crossed his arms. After the war plenty of people had had it worse than Harry Potter the Savior and plenty of people had managed to move on. In fact Draco himself had been through a damned near hell and had come out the other side- with far less opportunities or contacts than someone like Harry Potter would have. It wasn't fair for people to feel sorry for him now, after they idolized him for years. If they put him up on a pedestal and then realized that their poor Potter had feet of clay it was really their own fault- everyone, even heroes, are human.

"Is he staying here, then?" Draco asked suspiciously, looking at Potter as he tried unsuccesfully to imitate an Italian accent as he played a Roman senator.

"Heavens, no," Aunt Andromeda scoffed, turning off the meat with her wand as she cooked it on the Muggle frying pan. "He's staying at the Weasleys for the time being from what I understand."

"Good," Draco said firmly.

"Will you be staying for dinner?" Aunt Andromeda asked hopefully, and Teddy looked up with a big smile. Most of Draco wanted to say no and rush away from Potter's intrusive company, but he did not want to disappoint his family, especially when they had been there for him through so much.

"Of course," Draco smiled thinly. "Algernon's got a late shift, I might as well enjoy your company, Aunty-you and your soaps."

Draco was seated next to Potter. That was enough to put him off his food under normal circumstances, but now it was even worse- Potter kept _looking_ at him. Draco had no idea why- other than potion-ing his hair nearly three years ago he hadn't changed himself in any real way except emotionally, and that was something Potter obviously couldn't see. Still, for the first time in years Draco found himself toying with his Occulmency shields- he had no real idea what they taught Aurors in America anyway, if they even called them that. After a few more moments of being stared at Draco turned to glare at Potter, but he looked away.

"So," Potter coughed uncomfortably. "What have you been up to, Malfoy?"

Draco had no desire to share, but he was sure that Potter would find out sooner or later- the wizarding world was very small anyway, and like it or not they did travel in intersecting circles. "I took my NEWTs and I'm currently a teacher," Draco said shortly, turning back to his food.

"Oh," Potter's eyes went comically wide behind his glasses. "A professor, like Snape?"

Draco stiffened. Potter had _no_ right to mention Snape-and not in such a casual way. And while Snape had been his mentor in some ways and a family friend, he had not thought of fashioning himself after Snape, like a tailor would make two twin children identical robes. The very idea made him a bit ill.

"Not at all," Draco said coldly. "I am _not _a potion's professor, nor am I a professor at all. I teach young children-nursery school, if you must know."

Potter stared again. Really Draco had never wanted to thrash someone within an inch of breaking his wand as he wanted to Potter right now. What did it matter if he taught nursery school children- he was _fine_ with it until he found a position as a tutor of pre-Arthimancy or at a preparatory academy. He really didn't understand why Potter had to glower at him as though he was a being from another planet come to life like those awful Muggle movies Algernon liked to watch when he though Draco was half-asleep on the couch next to him.

Finally Potter said, "I think that's really amazing, Malfoy. That's really great, I mean."

Draco didn't suppress rolling his eyes this time. As if he had needed the approval of the Boy-Who-Lived to choose his career. Thank the gods this meal was over.

"Will you stay a bit longer?" Aunt Andromeda said hopefully. "Harry was going to show us some photographs of his flat in New York."

"No," Draco said firmly. "But thank you, Aunty, for supper. I have lesson plans to research in the morning and Algernon will be getting back soon and I really should be getting home."

Draco bent down by Teddy and tugged a piece of his hair until it turned another color. "Goodbye Cammy Chameleon, I'll see you tomorrow."

Teddy pouted. "Won't you stay-go upstairs to your room."

Draco grinned. "It's not mine anymore-it's Teddy Lupin's room and the other is for Cammy Chameleon, don't you remember? You're so special you get two rooms and I got tossed aside to have to live with poor Al Bones."

"Yeah," Teddy nodded proudly. "Bye."

Draco tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fire.

"Bye Malfoy," Potter mumbled over the roar.

Draco nodded curtly. Of course he'd see him again.

* * *

><p>Draco felt the tension leave his body as soon as he returned to Algernon's townhouse on Occasion Alley. He went upstairs and ran a hot bath in the lovely white and gold claw foot tub that they had in one of the bathrooms and threw off the sweats and t-shirt he had put on, sinking blissfully into the vanilla and musk scented bubbles that sprung at regular intervals from the tap. Draco closed his eyes and sank under the water forgetting for a moment all about Harry Potter and the pressures of his job that were soon to come on the horizon.<p>

After a few moments he _accio'd_ the book that he had been reading, a dull tome called _Advancements on Arthimancy _that was all about dissecting the charts of the ancients-the sort of book Draco needed right now, something so monotonous and that needed all of one's faculties to understand entirely that he had no time to think about the fact that Potter had strode back into London with as much fanfare as he had entered it.

"You know I really could get used to this," Algernon said and he frightened Draco so completely that he nearly dropped the fifty galleon text into the bathwater. "Gorgeous lover waiting for me every day when I come home from a horrid day of standing on Knockturn Alley street corners glaring at people until they kept walking like it was the annual _Bath Broom Races._"

"Merlin," Draco said. "I don't know what's worse, being surprised by you or by Potter this afternoon."

"Potter?" Algernon started, toeing off his shoes. "How did you know that Harry Potter was back in England?"

"I went to see my Aunt and he went to go see Teddy," Draco grimaced. "It was lovely feeling uncomfortable around my own family."

"Oddly enough I know what you mean by people being made uncomfortable by Potter," Algernon said, undoing his robes with a spell and slipping into the bath. "No one but his mate Weasley knew which end of their wand was for casting today, and I can't imagine why-the bloke looked _terrified_ and he kept apologizing for everything-he even spilt his tea when Maureen, the canteen mistress, brought it up because she thanked him for his contributions to the war."

Draco snorted. "He's always been like that, even when he was a child- he always acted as though his shadow would rise off of the pavement and bite him."

Algernon laughed, tracing the inside of Draco's leg until he reached the delicate flesh in between. "And I bet you took advantage of that, my little Slytherin darling."

"I may have, once or twice," Draco smirked.

"_Merlin,_" Algernon sighed, as a bit of water sloshed over the side of the tub. "I haven't known you to do something once or twice that you couldn't try and top a third time except well-topping. Potter's time at Hogwarts must have been bloody miserable-how-_oh-_ ridiculously Dickensian that now he's everyone's favorite man."

_Yes, _Draco thought with a sudden blast of sympathy and guilt. _Potter's time at Hogwarts was horrible for a variety of reasons. And you were part of it, Malfoy._

Draco threaded his fingers through Algernon's hair and whispered across his lips. "I think we should stop talking about Potter, don't you?" in an as sultry a manner as he could manage.

Algernon took the bait and kissed him and soon there was no more talk of anything at all


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Hey everyone- I know there was some interest about how H+D would get together since Draco still had some animosity toward Harry in the last chapter. In this chapter there is a jump of a year half-way through the chapter, just to let things sort of settle and calm down from the move. The way this chapter ends is the way the next one picks up- so review and enjoy :D_

Chapter 16:

Harry looked down at his mounting pile of paperwork with a heavy sigh. In the eight months in which he had been an Auror under Robards he was sure he had learned more ways to make a mistake than he had been praised.

_Nothing_ was like it was in New York- the laws were so much more strict and more regimented since England still operated under the ghastly system of _separate spheres_ as Hermione called it. Harry didn't know what thought of the Statute of Secrecy but he constantly felt as though working under it he was looking over his shoulder, waiting for someone to correct him or take away his wand. _Then_ they had to actually wait around for the Obliviators, who were a small and understaffed department in the States because they were so rarely used-Americans tended to believe whatever they saw was government conspiracy, aliens, or due to drug use and obliviate themselves.

Harry sighed and looked at the pile of paperwork again.

_That _was another thing he had never been taught to do during his time in the Auror Academy in America- there they had a secretarial service that oversaw paperwork, parchment, and filings for the Aurors; since New York was such a heavy traffic area all the Aurors constantly needed to be on the field or on call if they were not on designated off duty time. Harry _had_ tried to learn how to file paperwork properly but when your partner was your best mate, and your best mate was someone who was notoriously bad at schoolwork, and had always passed it off on his clever fiancée-well, it meant Harry hadn't learned very much of anything from Ron. How had Ron learned anything? His partner, who had retired, had frightened him into doing both his and Ron's paperwork for the first two months after his acceptance so he'd never made a foot wrong. _Slytherins._

Harry walked out into the hallway. He was becoming used to being the first one to arrive and the last to leave- it took bloody _ages_ to unpick all the messes he tended to make and all the other men and women had children or significant others so as soon as their shifts were over they went right in line for the queue for the lift to the Atrium, all the better to get to apparation points and Floos first.

The bullpen was empty tonight. It was just a few days before Beltane and it meant that all the men had taken their sick days and leave days that they had hoarded like nifflers to go on long holidays. Harry envied them that. He didn't have anyone, and if he'd have stayed in New York there wouldn't have _been _anyone, only a class taught by a man who had slept with his ex girlfriend. Still, it didn't make things any easier, coming back. Everyone had moved on. Ron and Hermione were engaged, Ginny was married to Theo Nott, and everyone else in the Weasley family was reproducing so rapidly that Harry would soon have to start visiting on odd afternoons when everyone was working just so there would be a vacant seat.

Harry slipped off his robes and stood in front of punching bag in just his oldest jeans and t-shirt. Soon Hermione or Ron would Floo call dispatch looking for him, which was ridiculously embarrassing-that was barely passable if it was your wife or girlfriend. Then Harry would go home to Grimmauld Place with it's hundred empty rooms and he'd understand why Sirius was so keen to have him even when it wasn't safe. Right now he'd like to have Teddy, even though it'd be madness and Mrs. Tonks would have him hung first.

Most mornings Malfoy's bloke Bones was in here, working off steam with some of the trainees. Bones seemed really friendly and good natured to most people- except Harry. Harry had no idea why, but Bones never went out of his way to say hello to him, and Harry never did either-it was enough to know that Malfoy and he shagged to put him off, although Malfoy wasn't _quite _Malfoy anymore. Knowing Malfoy spent most of his day teaching five year olds how to read and write really lightened the Darkness off of Malfoy, who'd never been much more than a school bully in the first place.

Harry punched the bag again. During the past few months he had seen Malfoy once or twice-he came down to the Ministry to visit Bones sometimes and sometimes to visit Cho Chang, who oddly enough he was friendly with, if Bones was out in the field. Sometimes he ran into Malfoy at Mrs. Tonks' but Malfoy would always find an excuse to leave early if Harry was there.

If Harry hadn't known any better, he'd have said they were avoiding each other.

Heels clicked down the hall and Harry turned to look in their direction. It was Cho. She was standing with a hand on the hip of her fashionable robes, her headset disconnected from her wand, a peevish expression on her face. Harry wondered vaguely what he had ever seen in her.

"There's a call on Floo six for Potter," Cho said as if Harry wasn't the _only _bloody Auror left in the bullpen, and then she spun around and left without waiting for a reply.

Harry followed the swish of her heels down the hall to the control room of the dispatch office. All along the wall were witches and wizards lined up with their headsets attached to their wand with an amorphous blob of light which throbbed and beat to a rhythm which only the dispatch officers understood.

Cho pointed to an empty Floo and chair. "You've got five minutes."

Harry glared at her back-he had _learned_ that rule already, and unlike the rest of them, it had stuck. Cho was notorious for showing blatant favoritism to the Aurors she liked-if Bones got a call from Malfoy or Simpson a call from her old friend Marietta she'd easily look the other way whilst they chatted for half their shifts.

"Harry," Hermione smiled. "Are you still at work?"

"Is that Harry, Hermione?" Ron shouted in the background.

"No, it's my lover Michel, and we're going to run off together," Hermione taunted. "Harry, why didn't you come home with Ron when his shift ended- I'm making pasta tonight, you must be starving by now."

"You don't need to cook for me," Harry said, although he was hungry. "You have enough on your hands keeping up with Ron and Michel."

"Oh, just get here already," Hermione huffed and the line went dead.

Ron and Hermione lived in the new luxury condominums that had opened up on Regal Alley, a lane created by a developer with the investment boom of the success of the war. The apartments were sleek and had all sorts of amendenties like an underground pool and sauna and free concierge services- all services that Ron and Hermione as busy Ministry employees probably never got a chance to use. Harry _did_ understand why Ron had splurged on such a ridiculously expensive flat- he had wanted to impress Hermione with a fancy engagement present, and as Hermione wasn't a jewels and new robes sort of girl, he found a compromise that suited them both very well.

In the lift to Ron and Hermione's condo the soothing WWN announcer recounted the closing figures of the _Gringotts 50/80_ stock market, with the mistaken assumption that Harry cared. Thankfully the sleek amber doors soon opened over a cream hallway carpet. And in the hallway Hermione was waiting.

"Harry," she said with her hands on her hips in the same fashion as she had when Harry hadn't done his homework on time and was begging for her help. "You're late."

"I came as soon as you called," Harry said sweetly, but Hermione wasn't to be swayed.

"I don't want to hear that nonsense, Harry Potter," Hermione said firmly. "Just get inside the flat before I bar the wards against you once and for all."

The inside of Hermione and Ron's flat, although spacious was cosy and warm-Hermione and Ron wouldn't have had it any other way. There was a squat red sofa in one corner with a newspaper proclaiming the news of three days ago, and on a rocking chair was a basket of yarn which looked as though Crookshanks had gone through it rather merrily one day while Hermione was at work. In the corner was the newest model wireless, which Ron wasn't still sure how to tune properly-which was why their older, smaller one was balanced on top of it.

"Harry," Ron said happily. "Why did you take so bloody long- did you file the Greengrass report-if you don't Robards is going to flay you come Monday."

"Merlin," Harry sighed, "I did just about everything else except that- do you think I still have enough time if I was to go back to the Ministry and do it now?"

Ron shook his head sadly. "Everyone from Filings went home Harry-it's the weekend before a big holiday. Maybe if you went in early on Monday and pleaded your case to Robards he'd let you have an extension, I mean you've got a lot of back paperwork, mate."

"No," Harry said quickly. That was the last thing he wanted- to seem helpless to someone like Robards after going to him _twice _for his help. There could be no way Harry could hold his head high and dream about becoming Head Auror one day if he did all of _that_.

"I'll stay sometime next week and help you figure some of it out," Ron said with as minute a sigh as he could manage. "But you've _got_ to get it together soon, mate-if Robards calls us both up I don't want a suspension."

Harry nodded. He didn't know _what_ was up with himself since he had come back from New York but he felt there as though he was a small fish in a big pond. Before that he had felt like a perused fish mostly-and now he felt like he really neither fish nor fowl, because he hadn't belonged in either New York or London when it came to the breaking point.

Everyone could make it in New York, but Harry had been made a fool of, and everyone he had ever known had made a success of themselves in London, but Harry felt as though he was still beginning.

"I should have waited some time and tried Robards again," Harry said. "I could have joined the Aurors here, it was just too soon after the war."

Hermione came around the couch and handed Harry a plate of pasta and sauce and a butterbeer, and then she _accio'd_ over their little telly table so that Harry could sit between them and eat, and not have to go to the dining area and dine alone.

"Why didn't you wait then?" Ron asked. "We could have been in the same training rounds, it would have been fun."

"I don't know," Harry said around a mouthful of food. "I probably should have went back to Hogwarts as well, but I kept thinking that I was meant to be moving forward after a war, you know? I didn't want to be living life like I was still a child when we had done and seen and experienced more than that."

Hermione shook her head, placing her butterbeer down on the table. "After the war was the _perfect_ time to relax and take time off Harry- or to travel, or go back to school or not. Even if being an Auror was your dream I wish that you hadn't rushed back into it like that. Or ran away to do it."

"It wasn't running so much as-" Harry toyed with the condensation of the bottle of butterbeer, searching for the right words. "Well I _suppose_ that some of it was running, but only a very small part. The rest was wanting to feel free or liberated or not bloody stuck in a place that made me feel as though I couldn't leave my house without a mass of photographers wanting to know where and why."

"Oh, _Harry,_" Hermione sighed, giving him a little hug. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Tell you lot that I didn't want to be a celebrity?" Harry gave a little wry laugh. "I thought that you and Ron already knew that."

"Course we did," Ron said gruffly. "It's that if we'd known you'd wanted to leave because of all that we'd never have fought as hard to make you stay in the first place."

"You didn't fight very hard," Harry said, smiling up at Ron. "Just a lot of muttering under your breath and turning to Hermione for advice."

"_Oy,_" Ron cried. "We were trying to do the right thing. Hermione, talk sense into Harry, will you?"

Harry laughed at the beautiful case in point being played out right in front of his eyes. Hermione chuckled too and even after a few moments did Ron finally uncross his arms and begin to laugh, the three of them nearly choking up their butterbeer in hysterics.

* * *

><p>Harry's first year in the Auror's went by so quickly he hardly knew it had passed. He <em>finally<em> figured out how file paperwork much to Ron's immense relief and he managed to occasionally hand it in on time to Robards' satisfaction. But being an Auror in London wasn't as exciting as Harry had envisioned- most of his _beat_ as Yolanda still called it from her letters; was dedicated to hovering on a broom at night waiting to fine people who were speeding. Harry gave so many citations in the first year that he was certain he stopped being the Boy-Who-Lived and was once again public enemy number one.

"Hey Weasley," Bones said, leaning on the doorjamb. Harry looked up-as usual whenever Bones stopped by he addressed himself to Ron and not to Harry. Harry rolled his eyes at Bones' beefy figure and went back to his paperwork.

"Hey Algernon," Ron said ameably. _Traitor, _Harry's thoughts quickly provided. "What's up?"

"Potter's hair-he really ought to see Violet at _Supreme Shears_, I hear she does an excellent haircut for only ten galleons," Bones quipped idly and Ron choked back a laugh. Harry hated that about Bones- he took the piss out of everything and everyone, including himself, so somehow that was supposed to set it right. Harry set his jaw so hard he was sure it was going to ache tomorrow.

"I was going to invite you to the Red Responders after work, a few of us are going to have a few pints and a laugh-you should come with Hermione if you're not busy."

"Yeah, definetly," Ron said eagerly. "Hermione says we don't get out much. Thanks for letting us know, Bones."

Harry stared at the empty door. "Bones didn't even invite me, did you see that?"

Ron laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry, he said _us_, of course that meant you, besides I'm not going to go to the pub without you."

In the end Harry got dragged there by Ron and Hermione despite his protestations. The Red Responders was the pub frequented by the Aurors and their families and it was known for being a good, clean establishment, done in oak beams and long stools where people could talk and unwind after a long shift or meet up to listen to the latest Quidditch match. When Ron and Hermione had had a rare row Harry had taken Ron to the Red Responders for a few drinks and a chat about nothing much-Ron was a simple drunk who liked to have a stiff drink and a game on somewhere in the enviornment and the pub had fit the bill. Since then Harry hadn't been back.

"Hey!" Sampson cried. "Weasley!"

Harry often had the suspicion that Ron was the more popular one at work. Ron was more like their coworkers-he had a spouse, he came to work and he knew the rules and he kept to them; and he never had his face in their morning papers. Frankly, if Harry had been Sampson or Bones or Landry he would have disliked Harry as well.

"Hello," Marietta said to Hermione. "I do love your brooch. Where did you get it?"

That was the perfect thing to say to Hermione who always wanted the approval of other women but never wanted to seem as though she needed it. "Oh, in Australia- my mother and father were living there, during the war . . ."

Malfoy was at the other end of the table with Bones, Sampson and now they were waving Ron over. Ron looked as conflicted as a boy who was best mates with the least popular kid in class. Finally, Harry just went over without an invitation.

"So Weasley used to be partners with Rosier," Sampson said as though he were finishing up a long tale.

"Not Justus," Malfoy snorted. "He's got to be a hundred if he's a day- that is if I remember my genealogy tables correctly."

"Merlin forbid you get your genealogy tables wrong," Bones snorted and Malfoy instead of snapping at him or sneering actually _laughed._

"It was Justus," Ron said as though nothing was really the matter. "He used to make me do his and my own paperwork. Said it would _strengthen my character_-as if my character needed any more strengthening after the bleeding war. When he quit I was so happy I thought I would never have to do another person's paperwork again-until Harry came along."

Everyone laughed at that-even Malfoy. _Merlin _it was embarrasing to know that it had made it around to the Auror spouses that he was so dim he couldn't figure out his own paperwork.

Hermione bustled over to the table and sat down next to Malfoy. "Congratulations," she said and Malfoy turned an odd shade of pink. "I heard from Susan's brother Anthony."

"Thank you," Malfoy replied stiffly, not elaborating any further. Apparently everyone around the table had already heard something Harry hadn't. Harry was increasingly beginning to feel like he was wearing his invisiblity cloak for all it counted that he was present.

"We just went to Landsdowne," Bones said, handing Hermione a photograph. "On our second anniversary we went away to Vevey for a fortnight but this time we went back to the place we had our first date. I told Draco that it was really a rather cheesy idea but he insisted that we do it and so we did. You know Slytherins and their wild romantic natures, it just can't be tamed."

"There needs to be a spell invented that can silence you," Malfoy said peevishly.

"You're the teacher," Bones said with false sincerity, "Can't you create some sort of _interactive_ lesson plan than can motivate me into some sort of behavior modification?"

"Oh no," Malfoy said sharply, "I'm not playing this game with you in _public_, Bones!"

"Funny," Bones said with blissful lack of concern. "That's not what you said on the beach that time when we-"

Malfoy cast _silencio_ on Bones. Then he smiled stiffly around the table. "Shots, no? I'm getting everyone a round of shots."

Ron looked at Bones as though he were some sort of a god that had been brought to life. He quickly reversed the silencing spell. "You've done something that I've wished someone could do for years," he said in awe. "You've managed to shut up Malfoy once and for all, and for that I'll be your friend for life, Bones."

Bones laughed. "You're a nice one, Ginge. You and Old Faithful beside you are a good team. Keep up the good work."

Harry was drunk off his arse. He hadn't been this drunk since New York, and even then since the early days of New York. Beside him Ron, Hermione and Sampson were playing Exploding Snap rather drunkenly and nobody was caring that Hermione kept winning every match, in fact, everyone kept laughing. Marietta and a barmaid were chatting in a corner and touching each other's hair, something Harry did _not _want to know about.

Across from him Malfoy was taking a sip of his pint clumsily, alone since Bones had gone to the loo. His soft brown locks caught the candle light overhead and his eyes were aware but relaxed by the amount of alcohol that he had consumed. He swayed a little and then tipped forward before taking a glump again. Some of the amber liquid dribbled out of his soft pink mouth and he wiped it away with the back of his hand in a throuroughly un-Malfoy manner, his pink lips reddening even further. Harry could not look away. Malfoy was like the Muggle magnets he had learned about as a child and he felt as though he and Malfoy were two opposite poles across a table, no across _life_ and if he could just get to him and make him _understand_-

Bones came back from the bathroom and sat down next to Malfoy and slung an arm around his shoulder. He gently brushed the hair away from Malfoy's forehead.

"I'm so pissed," Malfoy laughed thickly.

Bones kissed his forehead. "I know. Let's go home."

Harry watched Bones half-carry, half-walk Malfoy to the apparation point, his emotions swirling from lust to envy to desire.

Harry had to see Draco again and soon. He _had _to.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Hello readers here is a holiday edition of the story. Things are definitively picking up between H/D now- I hope that you'll review and tell me what you think of what's going on, especially if you read carefully, there is a hint for the drama!storyline that is coming up. Any guesses? I'll throw out a hint- I feel badly for Draco's bf; very, very badly ;)_

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><p>Chapter 17:<p>

Draco sighed.

Aurabelle Whitmore _was not_ tracing her letters properly, instead she insisted on tracing outside the lines. Draco had had the same problem with her brother and her cousin- it was a common issue when parents tried to teach their children to use the quill before the child had the dexterity in their hands to master it. It was much better to start out with a pencil or even a tracing spell on a wand and with a little diligence daily a child would learn proper penmanship. But of course Aurabelle's parents didn't have the time for her, or she wouldn't have been in Draco's classroom.

"Come to the front of the class, Aurabelle," Draco said as gently as he could- Aurabelle was a shy girl and more than that he didn't want to give the rest of the students a reason to taunt her later.

Aurabelle came to the front of the class, shaking in her little regulation booties. Draco tried to make the classroom as much a safe haven for the children as possible- they decorated it for the holidays and had a pet Pigmy Puff- but some children were just terribly shy.

"Aurabelle," Draco said gently, taking her hand and her soft pencil. "You must trance along the line, see? Let's do another together-A? That's for Aurabelle. Now that you know I expect you to trace your letters properly Aurabelle."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," Aurabelle said, returning to her seat.

"Good." Draco said. He had slept poorly last night because Algernon had had a late shift and his neck had a cramp. Today had been miserable. Timothy Smith had spilled all his paints on the rugs during their arts and crafts for Samhain and Draco had to bring the entire class into the music room and devise a memory game while the maintaince crew tried various spells to get the stains out.

"Everyone drop your pencils," Draco stated. "I'm going to collect your papers so watch for the spell please. _Accio penmanship assignment._ Did everyone see and listen to the spell? Can anyone tell me it's name?"

Although it wasn't mandatory for the littlest children to learn magical theory, Draco threw it in occasionally along with their homework; for example he had them trace the word _wand_ or memorize the word _spell _for homework. All of their holidays were wizarding holidays and he always told and read them wizarding stories- all the more to enable them to grow up with some pride in their roots. Once a year they had _opposite day _where everything was Muggle- telly, radio, papers_, _but other than that he kept it simple. No politics for five year olds, thank Merlin.

Holly Goodwin and Francis Bell raised their hands first, they were his smartest students- Goodwin's parents were Muggle born but very aware people who had magical relations, and Bell's parents were distant relatives of Katie Bell who thankfully didn't hold all that against him.

"Francis, can you tell me the spell, please?" Draco asked him.

"It was _accio_, if you please, sir," Francis said primly.

"Very good, Francis," the bell rang three times, signaling the end of the day and the students looked just as happy as Draco felt. "And very good everyone. However, we do not run home like little wild beasts, we first make sure we get our assignment sheet from my desk, place it in our bag, line up with our buddy- Veronica you have our Pigmy Puff for tonight, make sure to feed him- and now we are ready to go home."

Draco stood in front of the line and counted the children silently to himself just to be sure- Georgia, the second term teacher had nearly lost one of her children on an outing to the Ministry and it had frightened Draco so badly that he had triple checked the children ever since.

"All right," Draco smiled brightly. "Now, let's walk to the gates, please- no running Benjamin! I know you see your mother! Please everyone, wait calmly and Lucy do _not_ try to put your pencil in Holly's hair; I can see you from here."

This was Draco's least-favorite part of the day. While they were in the classroom they were his children, docile and controllable, but once they had the merest glimpse or the _thought_ of seeing their parents again they became as wild as the monsters their fiends of parents gave birth to. Worse than that Draco had to grin and bare it, even though the war had been over nearly four years ago if he showed the merest glimpse of looking cross the parents immediately assumed he was plotting treason.

Most of the children had left- Draco was waiting with Veronica Hallstead because her parents had Floo called to say they were running late from the _Daily Prophet_ where they worked-when Potter showed up.

"Potter," Draco said, shocked. He had no idea Potter even knew he worked at this school, but then again Potter probably had all sorts of people who could dig up contacts and what not. "What are you doing here?"

"Er," Potter said, scratching the back of his neck with his usual eloquence. "I came to see you, actually. Do you have some free time?"

Draco stared. Potter wasn't dressed in his Auror kit, instead he was wearing a pair of Muggle jeans and a faded old Gryffindor t-shirt that was so threadbare that it looked as though it were two washings away from becoming ashes. Draco had no idea why Potter would think they had any business with each other- they had no friends in common, no common interests, no common family-

"Is something wrong with Teddy?" Draco asked, his heart pounding through his chest as though he was going to be ill.

"No," Potter said soothingly. "No one is ill, or hurt, I swear it. It's just to talk, Malfoy. Can you?"

Draco wanted to say absolutely not but he had no real reason to say no to Potter beyond the fact that they had never really gotten on. It really wouldn't cost him anything to sit with Potter somewhere for a few minutes and listen to his inane chatter and humor him and at the end of the day Potter would have gotten whatever validation he wanted and Draco would be free of the hassle. Saying no outright would only cause him more trouble considering the fact that Potter was Teddy's godfather and Algernon's coworker.

"Very well," Draco said shortly. "I just have to wait for Veronica's parents to come and pick her up."

As if on a cue Mr. Hallstead strode outside from behind them wearing his business robes, he had obviously arrived on the Floo and had come outside to pick up his daughter.

"Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Hallstead greeted with the deference all parents seemed to show for teachers. "Thank you for waiting with Veronica. I trust she was good today?"

"Veronica was very good," Draco smiled into Veronica's face, it was no lie, she was one of the more pleasant and tolerable girls and she seemed to disappear into the middling characters that didn't cause him any trouble. "So today Veronica has the special task of taking home our class pet to teach her responsibility."

"How nice," Mr. Hallstead beamed, and then caught sight of Potter. "Mr. Potter," he said greedily. "I do hope you enjoyed our expose of your time in New York. _Party Boy Potter. _Very illuminating, wouldn't you say?"

Potter crossed his arms, but didn't sat a word and simply watched as Veronica and her father disapparated.

"Are you ready to leave, Malfoy?" Potter said shortly. "No," Draco snorted. "I've got to see to my classroom first. You can wait here if you like, Potter."

"Can I see it," Potter asked, his bright green eyes shining with hope underneath his large Muggle glasses. "Your classroom, I mean."

"You'd better hope that's what you meant," Draco said dryly, "And, yes-you can see it. Follow me."

Draco led Potter though shining hardwood flooring as though it was a surreal experience. Potter actually wanting to know something that was not of import to his own life was rather shocking to Draco- in fact it was downright stunning, he had always thought of Potter as someone who had acted because he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, not of his own violition. Along the corridor there were no cloaks on the shiny metal pegs although there were names written in Draco's precise hand, over and over, until they reached the door of the classroom.

"This is it," Draco said simply, and opened the door with his wand.

Potter looked around as if he had entered a fairyland. He touched the childish drawings that Draco had suspended overhead with a spell delicately, as if they would snap off and fall. Potter walked over to the circular table where they had story time and touched the old copies of _Anglo Saxon Gods _and _If I was a Wizard_ as though they were made of gold. He smiled at the tidy little desks as well as Draco's own, piled with papers to grade, and his chalkboard which always stated the day, month and year and the words-_Be yourself and you'll be fine. _

"It's amazing," Potter said, as Draco scooped up the papers he needed to grade and wrapped them around with spellotape and dropped them into his leather satchel. "Did you do all this yourself?"

"Me, Susan and Algernon." Draco shrugged. "But mostly me. Are you ready now, Potter? I've got a lot to grade, and there is a tea place across the way-"

"Oh yes," Potter said, his green eyes sparkling under his glasses. "I'm interested, now more than ever."

* * *

><p>Draco sat down across from Potter at the tea room that he had so often gone to with Susan during those awful months they had spent studying for the NEWTs. It was so hard to think that they were almost four years ago now, and that Susan had signed a contract to teach at that prestigious pre-Hogwarts prep school in Scotland. Draco missed her constantly- Floo calls were miserable and country weekends were nothing to having your best mate around all the time.<p>

Still, the matter at hand was that Potter was currently sitting across from him, massacring his brownie and barely sipping his hot cocoa. Draco had no idea why Potter would order these childish foods if not to actually eat them, and he was so near scolding Potter like he was Teddy and ordering him to speak-

"Malfoy," Potter finally said. "I know we've never gotten along-"

Draco snorted. That was the understatement of the century if you called being on opposite sides of the war and wanting to kill each other_ not getting along._

"But," Potter continued as though he hadn't heard Draco's interjection. "I really think we should. The war's over and we're as much at each other's throats as ever. Now I know you're going to say that we're not, but Malfoy, we are. We can't even be in the same room without ignoring each other or finding some excuse to step out of it. We obviously have friends and family in common now, and sooner or later we're going to be stuck in a room together alone-what would you do then?"

"Leave," Draco said, dryly.

Potter laughed. "Would you really?"

Draco paused. "Merlin-no, Potter I wouldn't leave the room because I was alone with you in it. I just don't understand what all this is about. We've never gotten on and now we can tolerate each other. Isn't that enough for you?"

Potter looked down and his glasses slid off his nose. Without them he looked open and vulnerable, as though he was easily hurt, easily damaged. Draco thought it was quite lucky indeed that Potter's glasses hadn't fallen off his face during the last battle or the Death Eaters would have all leapt on Potter before Potter had had the chance to do in the Dark Lord. Potter looked at Draco piercingly and pushed his glasses up his nose and Draco blinked and looked away, his chest oddly tight.

"No," Potter said, his voice tight. "It isn't enough for me anymore to call you Malfoy and chase you around and tell my mates that its obvious you're up to no good. And I think we do need to talk, _Draco_, about the war, about the fact that you knew it was me that day and you didn't turn me in, and about the fact your mother is still living in France in exile and she saved my life. We should talk."

"Potter," Draco said stiffly. "Whatever you think you owe me, you don't. I did what I did during the war because _I_ wanted to save myself; not because I wanted to save your specific life. As for my mother, you can ask my aunt for her address; I'm sure she'd love to show her lover the _Duc _a letter from the English boy hero. As for me; the only thing I want from you is the one thing you ever took from me that was my own-my wand. Other than that, I think that this little deep and meaningful conversation is over."

With that, Draco fished out four galleons from his pocket for his tea and tossed it down in front of Potter. He grasped his satchel and began walking out toward the apparation checkpoint before Potter could come out and say another bloody word.

But of course Potter got to Draco before Draco could make an effective exit-this was the same day he had spent on the floor in his best _Armando Vernelli _trousers playing _Hex the Hornback_ because Timothy had spilled paints on the three-hundred year old carpet in their classroom that was still far too new to be replaced according to the Headmistress. Draco was sure the gods were looking down on him and laughing as he stood in the rain outside with Potter.

"You'll catch cold," Potter said stupidly.

"You _made_ me stop," Draco growled. "You kept calling my name."

Potter's mouth worked for a moment as though he didn't know what to do or say. Finally he burst in to laughter. "The Draco Malfoy I knew would have _never_ stopped because I said his name. Are you sure that you're well?"

Draco couldn't help himself, he felt a reluctant grin forming across his features. "Perfectly fine, thank you. What lovely weather we're having, wouldn't you say?"

If anyone had looked under the awning of the tea shop at that exact moment they would have seen two former childhood enemies burst into hysterical laughter and then leaned on each other for support.

* * *

><p>Draco sat down with his spellotaped folder of exams and went through them quickly, putting little fluttering fairies in the corners of the girls who had gotten O's and for the boys dragons this week. The children seemed to love the stickers, as it motivated them for everything-Georgia, his coworker used a giant stamp chart in her classroom full of stickers and the child who got the most first for good behavior got more-you guessed it, stickers-this time in a booklet they got to take home.<p>

Draco yawned so hard that his jaw cracked. Grading was just as tedious as creating lesson plans for five and six year olds-it just didn't make any sense. The children colored and spelled and did penmanship all day, with the occasional maths and reading thrown in to impress their gullible parents. At times Draco still felt like a nanny than a real teacher, but finding a placement at a pre-Hogwarts academy as Draco Malfoy was next to impossible, and he had tried, twice- and had returned back to his job all the more grateful for it. Teaching little children their gods and goddesses was tedious, but it was better than being imprisoned for being _unable to contribute to society_ as his parole paperwork had said.

Algernon came into the bedroom and knocked off his clunky Auror boots right in front of the bed. Draco glared at his figure-he had told him at least _eighty_ times a bloody week not to bring muddy boots in the house, but did he ever listen? No. And if Draco said another word about it he was acting like a schoolmarm outside of school.

Draco crossed his arms as Algernon leaned in for a kiss. He smelled like ale.

"Have you been drinking?" Draco asked sharply.

"Landry asked me around for a pint," Algernon said. "He won an award for the highest successful captures. Are you cross?"

"Not very," Draco said, turning back to his papers, "I just wished you would have Floo'ed that's all. I would have gone to Cho's or to see my Aunt and Teddy. I loathe being alone here- it reminds me of my childhood." "I can't see how, there isn't a shrine to the Dark Lord anywhere," Algernon teased and Draco froze.

"That joke was in extremely poor taste," Draco said sharply, getting up from the bed quickly and sliding on his slippers. As he rounded around the large bed to scoop up the last of his papers he caught sight of a box and a vellum card addressed in his name on Algernon's side of the bed.

"What's that?" Draco asked.

"It was on the table downstairs when I arrived," Algernon said carelessly. "I have no clue, it's addressed to you, you should open it."

Draco knew what it was as soon as he picked up the box. The magic inside leapt and beat to the pulse of the blood thrumming through his veins, the rush of the fresh air he was breathing in-the charts of Arthimancy he had playfully constructed yesterday; it was as kind and gentle and basic and wonderful a magic as the first smile Teddy had ever granted him, because it was just as simple. Draco brushed his hands against the brown parcel paper and across the little twine knot that made up the haphazard bow.

"Excuse me," Draco tossed out shakily, rushing into the bathroom and locking the door with the wand he had been using since the war had ended.

Potter had put it in a very fine wand case, but it was still badly damaged-it looked as though it had been trod upon and there were some scorch marks all along one side from Draco didn't want to remember what. But as soon as he touched it his wand jumped back into his hand as though he had never lost it to Potter. Draco had worried that being defeated by Potter in that duel would have meant that Potter would claim the allegiance of his wand, but it seemed as though the wand _still_ chose him, even after all this time.

Draco bit his lip and opened the door and it nearly came off the hinges. He'd forgotten how much work he had to put into his other wand.

"Nice entrance," Algernon said approvingly. "So what was in the box?"

"A wand." Draco paused. So much of what had been said and done had not yet been declassified by the people present at the last battle. Potter had never given an interview or spoken to any representative, instead he had testified at the Wizengamot and then fled the country for the States and the Wizengamot had decreed that the full knowledge of the entirety of the Final Battle would remain sealed for ten years. It hadn't yet been five.

"Whose wand?" Algernon asked. Draco inwardly winced. This was where skirting the truth would be difficult- if Draco said one thing and Algernon asked Potter and he said another it would look like more than what it was.

"My own," Draco said, sitting down with the card Potter had sent him, some of his best parchment, and a quill. "Harry Potter borrowed my wand when we were children because he needed it and now he's returning it."

"You _let_ your childhood enemy borrow your wand?" Algernon said incredulously.

"I never said all that," Draco sighed. "And he wasn't my enemy we were-" Draco searched for the appropriate word. "Tangled up in things far greater than ourselves."

Algernon crossed his arms suspiciously but Draco didn't entertain his suspicion-he couldn't. He had warned Algernon when they had first moved in together that there were parts of Draco that he would never understand, including the war, and this was a brilliant example of it coming into play right before his very eyes. Add to the fact that he couldn't explain away his doubts and it made a nasty mess.

* * *

><p><em>Draco-<em>

_I hope I won't see the sole of your shoe again (_Draco smiled at that)_ because I took a bloody week to find your wand. Hermione had my trunk in her and Ron's new flat-I had completely forgotten some of my things had ended up there when I went to the States._

_Anyway I hope this finds you in a good mood because I wanted to invite you flying._

_Seekers match?_

_-HP_

* * *

><p><em>Potter-<em>

_What, so you can catch it in your mouth again?_

_Oh, all right._

_Draco Malfoy _


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Hello everyone- hope you're enjoying the fic and please keep reviewing it really makes it all worthwhile! From here on out it's very *interesting*- any guesses on what will happen next? _

_Cookies for all!_

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><p>Chapter 18:<p>

Harry was in a bloody brilliant mood today. He had eighteen reports for file before tea, but he was humming whilst he was doing them. There had been an enormous queue for coffee this morning at the canteen, but Harry waited pleasantly just like everyone else and even let a pregnant witch cut in front of him to the consternation of a stout wizard in back of Harry. He didn't care. Ron had been late and when Robards had asked after him Harry had blissfully lied and hadn't chewed Ron a new one when he had come in smelling of Hermione and looking too happy to have been late because he had _lost his badge_.

No, Harry was happy because he was leaving midday to go flying with Draco Malfoy, his former enemy, sometime acquaintance, new pen friend and most secret desire. Harry leaned back in his chair, taking a moment out from his mountain of case reports to think about how lovely and gorgeous Draco was, with his caramel-colored hair that warmed his face now, the way his grey eyes sharpened when he was alert, or softened with amusement when he heard a well-executed joke. Draco was everything wonderful; he loved children-in fact he had never really thought it of Malfoy until he saw the lovingly dedicated way Draco had set up his classroom. But that wasn't true- he was brilliant with Teddy, and Harry had missed that too, he had only been envious and stupid.

Harry had missed out on so many chances by going away to New York and now he was determined to make up for all of them.

"Harry," Ron whispered from across the room. "Bones is looking at you, mate."

Harry looked across to the open door where Bones was indeed giving him the evil eye as he chatted to Landry. Harry didn't give a son's sickle what Bones thought of him-he hadn't like Bones from the first and now that he was sure that he had feelings for Draco he liked Bones all the less.

"Let him look," Harry sassed. "Think he sees anything he likes?"

Ron roared at that. "Harry, c'mon mate-he's got Malfoy keeping him warm at night-and Malfoy's a lot of things but he's no bad looker!"

Harry laughed along too- it was true that if someone as comfortable in their sexuality as Ron could notice Malfoy's attractiveness then that definitely meant that other people had. Harry felt the bizarre stirrings of jealousy over a piece of property that wasn't even yet his. Bones was so blasé, so cool and unattached about everything; if Draco had been his boyfriend he would have been watching over him all the time.

_But Harry,_ whispered Harry's Slytherin brain. _If Bones isn't taking care of his property, then it's his fault if it gets stolen._

Harry turned immediately back to his paperwork, shocked at the nasty turn his mind had taken, although still drawn by that tantalizing morsel. If he and Draco were both consenting adults and Bones hadn't seen to it that Draco wasn't otherwise disinterested, then it was his own fault, wasn't it? Harry didn't know, all he knew was that desire for Draco Malfoy was driving him as mad as obsession with him nearly had in sixth year.

"Harry," Ron said. "You're shift's done. Lucky you, getting off in the afternoon."

"Lucky you getting off this morning and having a best mate to cover for you," Harry said just to watch Ron's ears turn red.

* * *

><p>Harry apparated to the park he had indicated on the letter to Draco last week. Malfoy hadn't arrived yet which just left Harry standing around and looking foolish, with his newest broom a <em>Hawk 810<em> that he had bought in America on sale because he had forgotten his broom in the Weasley's shed. Harry looked around the park- despite the beautiful weather on a midday most witches and wizards his age and older were working-only a few mums with strollers were sitting about idly, pushing their carriages and reading _Witch's Weekly _as they gossiped. Harry hoped from this great distance they didn't recognize him.

Draco came up the runner's path as Harry turned away from the increasingly curious witches with a shudder. He was wearing a navy hoodie that said _Dalston Magical Teachers Conference _with the zip up and the hood over his hair, and he was wearing a pair of jeans that were so tight that Harry now knew that he had an arse that people should dedicate monuments to. On his feet he was wearing, oddly enough, the latest style Muggle trainers, a pair that Harry himself had wanted.

"Lucy Poole was sick in the girl's loo," Draco started without preamble. "As I was not then, am not now, and never will be a girl, I did not know. And I did not find out until she was sick in Veronica Hallstead's hair, which is why I'm late."

"Why were they in the same loo stall?" Harry grimaced. He had no idea how Draco could deal with these kinds of accidents on a daily basis. People always thought that Aurors were some kind of heroes but as for himself Harry felt that teachers deserved a lot more respect for what they did.

"They were telling each other secrets," Draco drawled. "It's a very common thing with females of all ages I'm told. They go into a public bathroom where there is some kind of filth always lingering about and begin to tell each other their _deepest darkest secrets._" Draco said the last bit in a high pitch little lisp.

Harry laughed. "Well, I hope it wasn't too bad, anyway-and I wasn't waiting that long. Hey, what happened to your broom."

Draco's eyes became a little hardened. "The same thing that happened to yours I suppose. The war. Are we going to talk or are we going to fly, Potter?"

Flying was good because they were both such shit at it now. Harry's only flying had been after drunken wizards for work, but they could barely keep their mount; let alone make the sudden and unpredictable changes in path and direction that a snitch did. As for Draco, Harry could tell that a teacher really had no time for flying except to or from school if they weren't a big fan of apparation or the Floo, but if Malfoy's flying was any indication he took to those two rather well. Harry shoulders ached from being hunched over and his brow hurt from squinting, but he was damned if he was going to give in before Draco, even if he was sure he was going to give himself a headache.

Draco flew alongside him. "My inner thighs are _killing _me," he groaned, and the combination of the sound and the slight suggestiveness of his sentence put Harry in mind of something else Draco could wrap his inner thighs around. "How did we do this when we were sixteen?"

"I feel fine," Harry lied with great bravado-his head and shoulders hurt, but other than that he only had the Auror training to thank for his better shape and stamina. "Are you really going to quit to me, Malfoy- what would your sixteen year old self say?"

"The old king is dead, Potter," Draco said with a flourish, indicating his brown hair with his hand. "Long live the king."

Harry laughed. "You're still a pompous git, Draco."

Draco beamed back. "And you still have a lot of catching up to do."

Harry was about to ask what he meant when Draco sped out of view in a brown and blue blur. Harry shook his head and laughed. _Slytherin._ For so many things that had changed about Malfoy, this hadn't-his intensity, his drive, and his bloody underhandedness. Where before during all the madness of his life that had made Draco Malfoy a thorn in his side, now it made him all the more desirable and lovely to behold as he streaked across the sky, as free as bird and every wild thing deserved to be.

In the end Harry caught up to the snitch first, but it had been a very fair fight to the finish by Draco. They sat down underneath a huge tree, panting and breathless.

Draco unzipped his hoodie a little, revealing a tantalizing morsel more of pale white skin. He waved his hand across the dip in between his two collarbones, drawing Harry's attention there and Harry fought against the instinct that screamed in his ear that he had to throw Draco to the ground and lick that little dip of flesh like a desperate kitten at a cream bowl.

"I'm done in," Draco laughed shakily. "Gods, I can't believe how much better shape I was when I was sixteen. Well there you are, the story's true that all teachers eventually become as fat as Professor Slughorn."

Harry laughed. "You're not fat- but if you want to come flying again, then we should. Ron never wants to because Hermione's never been much of a flyer."

Draco nodded absentmindedly as though he agreed with the general gist of what Harry was saying which sent Harry into a minor panic internally. He wanted to spend more time with Draco _now_ not in some hypothetical future during which Bones could slunk along and convince Draco that his friendship with Harry was some not to be done thing and then Draco would call it off. Harry wanted to have time to convince Draco that he was the right one, not Bones-and he'd never get the time if Draco went home now.

"Hey," Harry grinned. "I'm starved. How about you?"

"I am," Draco said suspiciously. "But Potter, it's getting late and it'll soon be time for all the good little heroes to return home to their adoring publics, don't you know that?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy," Harry laughed. "There isn't an adoring public any more than there is a Snorlack-there's just a bunch of _Prophet_-believing witches who collect my Frog Card, which is disturbing and there should be a law against. And I'm bloody hungry, and you've got to be hungry after making me chase you half-way across London before I realized you weren't the snitch. So are you coming out to eat or what?"

"Very nice speech, Potter," Draco said approvingly. "I guess we can go, if you want to- but I really shouldn't be late, Algernon gets in at eight."

Harry nodded and swore up and down they wouldn't be. But what secretly pleased him was from the way and manner in which he said it it seemed as though Draco wasn't telling Algernon anything about their friendship-nothing about the letters they had written each other this week, and nothing about meeting up with Harry now. Which meant that if he was hiding it, perhaps Draco could eventually be convinced to hide something more, and then move on from Bones altogether.

Harry and Draco went to a homey wizarding pub called the Prancing Unicorn in Kent, right outside where Mrs. Tonks and Teddy had their little cottage. During the mid-day the crowd was pretty empty, and so Harry and Draco had the place nearly to themselves except for a few regulars who looked to Harry as though the pub had been built around them instead of vice versa.

"This is slightly surreal," Draco said, dipping a chip into vingear and then into his mouth. "Eating with Harry Potter, former enemy, at the place that used to be my local."

"Must you say my name and then follow it with former enemy every time," Harry said irritably into his pint. "You've had more enemies than me, you know."

Draco looked down at the chip basket for a moment and Harry wondered if he had once again put his foot into it-and things had been going so well, too-"I suppose you're right," Draco said finally. "I've had a lot of enemies and so did you. I shouldn't treat you like you were so very special back then and really you shouldn't act as though I was either."

"Isn't that a bit of revisionist history?" Harry asked.

Draco laughed. "I'm stunned you know what that is, Granger would be so very proud. As for rewriting history, you did save the world- shouldn't Harry Potter get to say what did and didn't happen during his childhood?"

"No," Harry said slowly. While the idea of wiping the slate entirely clean was appealing, it wasn't _real._ You couldn't base a relationship of two people on the fact that both of them tip-toed around the fact that they had once hated each other. While a part of Harry knew he'd constantly be on his guard or defending against debates from Draco for the rest of his life, the rest of him _wanted_ and needed that kind of a challenge in a partner. Harry didn't want someone to tell him _yes, dear _and _no, darling _for the rest of his life or he'd have found one of his fans to marry along the way.

"No," Harry said firmly. "I think everything that happened, happened to us to make us who we really are. That if we would have just been lucky to have been born out of the country during the war or Muggles or even from neutral families-I don't think we would have _half_ the character, and the strength, and the wisdom that we do because of it."

Then something wonderful happened-the guarded, stiff look that had been in Draco's eyes despite agreeing to come flying and to eat with Harry faded away. Instead, he looked _softer_ as though all the points hardened by life and detractors just melted away. Harry wished he knew what he had said so he could bottle it up for Dumbledore's pensieve so he could replay it, again and again. With his guard up, Draco was attractive but remote, but with it down he was so painfully gorgeous that Harry could have sat at that chair and watched him for days.

"You remind me of my Mind Healer," Draco smiled, eating another chip. "No one's done that since I've seen him last. How amazing."

"Mind Healer?" Harry repeated dumbly.

"Hmm," Draco mused after taking a sip of his pint. "I had to see one as a term of my parole. I was very ill after the war some post traumatic issues that I'm still on potions for. I gave him the devil's own time the poor bugger, very non-responsive, the whole deal, but in the end we became friendly. He got me my position at the school-the Headmistress is his sister-in-law. My gods I don't think I've ever told anyone the whole story in one go, how utterly bizarre."

"I'm so sorry," Harry said blankly. He tried to imagine Draco as being mentally wounded like the people on the wireless but he couldn't- Draco seemed so capable-so _different_, true-was that because of therapy or because of his choices? Harry couldn't ever really know and in the end did it really matter? He was beginning to care for this Draco, not some hypothetical character that didn't exist.

"Don't be," Draco said, idly playing with the vinegar bottle. "I had a very bad year-I believe it was bound to happen after having the Dark Lord as a houseguest."

Harry winced. How _had_ Draco moved on from that? But then again, how had any of them? Harry put his hand over Draco's on the bottle to stop him toying with the label and Draco looked up rather gratefully- it did rather seem like a nervous tic.

"Thanks for the meal, Harry," Draco smiled, and Harry beamed at the used of his first name.

"Does that mean I'm paying," Harry mock-sulked.

"Yes," Draco forced out a put-upon sigh. "Unless you want to hear all about I was stripped of my precious fortune after the war."

They both shared a laugh.

* * *

><p>Harry and Ron stood under the awning of the Knockturn Alley Arms Hotel whilst Ron figured out how to fix his <em>glamours<em> so the roots of his red hair would stop showing through his now-black curls. They were on a stake-out for a wizard who was supposed to be coming either today or tomorrow afternoon to sell ingredients from Russia on the potions cartel. Harry thought that after five hours of wandering Knockturn as a gap-tooth Indian male they really ought to just pack it in for the day and go back to the Ministry- it was quite obvious that the Russians had found out that someone had gone _veritas_ or they were coming tomorrow.

Ron yawned widely. "Whatchu doing this weekend, Harry?"

"Going out tonight," Harry said, scratching his back idly, more from boredom than an itch.

It had taken a week to get Draco to agree to go out with him to a club one night-apparently that git Bones kept the leash as tight as possible, not that Harry couldn't see why. But when Harry had finally gotten Draco to cave in _and_ he had suggested a wizarding gay club, Draco's eyes had gotten as big as saucers before he studied Harry for a long moment. Then he grinned widely and said yes.

"Where you going, Harry?" Ron asked, staring at a prostitute with her breasts out as though he wanted to give her his cloak. Harry smiled- Ron was too good a bloke.

"A nightclub." Harry thought it was best to leave it at that. Harry hadn't gotten into his whole crisis of sexuality with his friends because he had only ever been attracted to one man: Draco Malfoy- even the dancer in New York had been an extension of Draco, like noticing a woman who looks a bit like your wife. Harry didn't want to upset his friends with any revelations unless it was necessary- right now he and Draco were only friends, and if they stayed that way it would be a lot of recriminations and fighting over nothing.

Ron nodded absentmindedly as he watched the street- out of the two of them, Ron was the better strategist and the better one at seeing perp a mile off. Harry was just better at getting the confessions. "Single life," Ron mused idly. "Haven't ever really known it myself- not that I'm complaining, mind."

"You're a lucky man, Ron," Harry said earnestly. "You have someone to come home to everyday."

_And if I could have Draco Malfoy I'd be lucky too._

Harry and Draco had agreed to meet at WANDS at midnight since Harry was working the evening shift and Draco was a teacher which meant that he got off at about four like usual. Harry arrived first and was ushered in by the fawning bouncer which he wished Draco had been there to see- there was nothing like a man as broad as he was tall fawning over you.

WANDS was a flurry of activity that night- there were three floors- on the first level was a rainbow dancefloor lit by fairies with a thumping techo beat and a bar manned by male Veela-wizard hybrids none of which held a candle to Draco in Harry's opinion. On the second level was a lounge similar to the types Harry had seen in New York with a smaller bar and jazzier, smokier type music. Harry thought that the sectional sofas in there most definitely needed their _scourigfy's_ at the end of every shift. And the top level was roped off with a pink sign that said intriguingly _VIP ONLY._

Harry didn't want to move from the first level or the bar in case he missed when Draco arrived. He kept his eyes trained at the door almost afraid to blink in case-

"Who _are_ you looking for?" drawled a familiar voice.

Harry turned around and almost died, again. Draco was dressed a v-neck heather-grey t-shirt that was cut so low in the chest that it gave Harry a hundred ideas only ten of which he actually knew how to execute. He was wearing black trousers so tight that Harry could see the shape of his lean thighs, his calves, and his high firm backside and if they were to do anything Harry would have to peel them off his body and- Draco was wearing _eyeliner_ that was not fair. Not fair. It wasn't very much- just a smudge around each corner to make his eyes look smoky and bedroom-ready and-

"Potter," Draco laughed. "Buy me a drink, I'm bored."

Harry laughed, but even to his ears it sounded like he had a chest condition. "What do you want?"

"Merlin," Draco said, astounded. "I never go out at all. What's the best thing to have when you want to get utterly pissed and have a good time?"

Harry ordered them a round of three firewhiskeys each and then a Jack and Coke. Draco crinkled his nose around the carbonation of the Jack and Coke, but he said that he rather liked it. They had another. And then another round of shots. After that dancing seemed like rather a good idea, even to Harry who was such a bloody awful dancer that he wouldn't have danced in front of Draco under normal circumstances since he _was_ meant to be impressing him.

Draco was a good dancer. The liquor made him uninhibited and he bobbed and slid along to the beat of the music, careless and free. Harry wished that he could see him like this all the time- smiling, happy, moving along to his own rythm without being dictated to.

The beat changed to something slower and blokes started to pair up. A few men eyed Draco speculatively, but as soon as they noticed _the_ Harry Potter they tended to flee like they'd seen the grim.

"I'm not sure where I'm supposed to put my hands," Harry admitted, talking for the first time in ages.

Draco laughed and shook his head, sliding closer. He took two of Harry's hands and guided them to each of his hips. Harry felt the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt and gripped it lightly, trying to soak up this tiny morsel of opportunity.

"Like that," Draco said loudly. "Or one up higher on my back. You can move closer, you know."

Harry slid closer and placed one hand on the middle of Draco's back and wrapped one around his hipbones. Their bodies seemed to align perfectly-it seemed to make sense that Harry was just a bit taller and stockier. Harry inhaled the scent of Draco's hair-it smelled like vanilla and a heady, earthy musk-deep and masculine and mysterious. Harry wanted him like nothing on earth.

"This is dangerous," Draco said, a little slurred from drink. "It's been like this, ever since that day at the pub-"

Harry kissed him. It was heaven. It tasted like rain- like the rain after a day of clouds, washing away all the worry and stress and trouble and care. He cupped the back of Draco's head and deepened the kiss; tasting the firewhiskey and Jack and Coke he had drunk and the delcious heady warmth of Draco underneath. Gods, Harry _needed _him-he was so wrong about just wanting him- this was _essential_, this was necessary. He ran his fingers through Draco's soft brown hair and drank in everything he had been looking for in New York, everything he had been chasing across the Atlantic had been at home all along. What a child-what a stupid, stupid, child he was not to know that Draco Malfoy was everything in the world for him.

Draco pulled away, a hand on his kissed bitten lips. "_Oh_," he said softly, as though he had realized the same revelations. "Oh, _Harry._"

They walked hand in hand upstairs to the second level to the lounge to the smoky darkness of the velvet sectional sofas and their silencing charms. A slick looking waiter came and took their order for a bottle of Odgen's and then disappeared with a smirk.

Draco poured two shots and handed one to Harry. They drank them quickly and sat, holding each other's hands. Nothing was said for a moment. Harry watched the dancers below with distant amusement and then he felt soft fingers on his face. Draco had removed his glasses.

Draco slid onto his lap and straddled his legs and Harry moaned-feeling the delicious sense of danger increase with the merest brush of Draco's hardness against his own. He cupped the back of Draco's head and thrusted upwardly, kissing the soft smooth skin of Draco's soft neck, and tonguing the ripple as he swallowed another drink. Draco threw his hands onto Harry's shoulders and then gripped the muscles tightly as he moved forward and back, nuzzling between Harry's shoulder and neck.

"_Fuck,_" Draco moaned and Harry bit his lip- he hadn't been expecting that- the soft low voice; the kiss bitten lips slick with saliva, the thrown back hair, the half-lidded eyes. It was too much. Harry wanted to swallow him whole.

Frustrated, Harry flipped them over so that Draco was underneath them, laying down on the cheap club sofa, his hair scattered about like ceremonial confetti. Harry kissed him again, pouring his desperation and intention into the kiss, hoping that through their touch somehow Draco could understand everything he felt and had just realized. Draco wrapped one leg around Harry, the other bent at the knee and trembling by Harry's ribs.

Draco thrust up in response to an unbidden cue, moaning wantonly, his cries hoarse. Harry looked into his lovely grey eyes, which stood out now even more against the backdrop of brown hair and smudged eye makeup.

"I've got to have you one night," Harry moaned, pulling away to stare at the beauty of his body, marked by Harry's kisses. Draco Malfoy was perfection. "I've got to-"

"You will," Draco murmured, pulling Harry's lips down for another kiss. "_Soon_-"

Harry saw stars.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Hi guys; I'm so glad you all liked the first real H/D moment. I just want to give a brief shout out to satin-skies for being so awesome and leaving such a great review on the last chapter, I'm glad it worked for you, and I stayed up too late writing it at times lol and needed coffee to get me through classes. Anyway, enjoy this chapter and review and tell me what you think of Draco in it. _

* * *

><p>Chapter 19:<p>

Draco watched Algernon sleeping on the couch in the sitting room idly. He'd left the wireless on again, and Draco turned it off with a spell before returning to his book, a dystopian novel about a world in which magic was illegal. Cho had said the series was good and it rather was, it was something to take his mind off everything. What he called _the mess _in his head.

The mess was that he had been having an affair with Harry Potter for the last three months. It had started accidentally, like all things, Draco supposed. He had thought buring the nonsense between them was in the best interest of Draco for his family, Algernon, and their general group of friends. So he did. But Harry was-_Harry. _It was impossible not to like Harry once one got to know him-earnest, kind, thoughtful, decent, yet he had an absolutely wonderful Slytherin streak full of underhandedness that rarely came out, but often enough to keep him fascinating. Draco fell like a ton of bricks.

Harry had had this scheme to go to a gay club and Draco had gone out of curiosity- he had thought Harry Potter was trying out the other side of the tracks and Draco wanted to see him chat up wizards to be quite honest. He never in a million years thought at the end of the night that he would end up underneath Harry, nearly begging him to see to his broom polishing as the saying goes. But nothing happened that night-only enough to be construed as massive infidelity.

No, everything happened after-when Draco had met up with Harry at the hotels or at his house, or once, quite memorably, in the Ministry loo. Draco winced.

He needed to choose. He couldn't keep sleeping with Harry whilst pretending to be in a relationship with Algernon-it wasn't fair to either of them. But the truth was he wasn't sure what he wanted, and he had no idea what Harry's intentions were beyond being the best shag in the wizarding world.

Draco cared about Algernon, but he wasn't in love with him, yet he had financial and emotional stability. And he had the possibility of love with Harry, but he didn't think it was at all possible to be stable, considering the way they were going on playing bandits and Aurors.

Algernon yawned, stretching out the muscular physique that had once attracted Draco to him. Now he only saw Harry-leaner and more battle hardened in his face, except when his beautiful green eyes danced with mirth.

"I fell asleep," Algernon yawned, curling his toes so that they would crack, a habit Draco found particularly disgusting. "Did you hear if the Magpies won?"

"210 to 90," Draco said idly, turning the page of his book. "Do you have work late again next Thursday or are you free?"

"Late again," Algernon sighed, and Draco made a mental check to tell Harry. "I've got to work the skies for the _flying under the influence _cases. I think if someone is flying and their under the influence they should be awarded, don't you?"

Draco laughed, but it came out a bit forced. "I think I'm going to go out on Thursday if you have work, I hate staying alone in this enormous house, it feels like a mausoleum. I might Floo up Harry Potter or Susan and go to the Muggle cinema, I've never done that before."

Algernon snorted. Draco had told Algernon about his friendship with Harry, he thought it had been the safest bet as the wizarding world was small and if someone saw them and said something at least in that sense he'd have a cover story. But it didn't mean that Algernon approved of Harry Potter- for some reason, perhaps an unconscious sense of jealousy that Draco couldn't entertain. To do so would make _the mess_ into a full out fiasco before he was ready to handle it.

"I'm going up to bed," Algernon said, brushing a kiss along Draco's earlobe suggestively. "Are you coming with?"

"No," Draco said, turning back to his book. "It's really rather interesting, Cho was absolutely right."

Algernon went up the stairs and Draco closed the book and winced, covering his face with his hands. He needed to make a decision, and soon- or he was going to end up hurting everyone involved.

* * *

><p>Draco let himself into Grimmauld Place with the key that Harry had given him. The wards on the house had never been modified against males with Black blood- at the time of the war he had been just another bigot child, and Teddy hadn't even been borne, so Sirius Black had most likely thought himself the last of that category who could enter the home, especially since it was still under Fidelius. Draco looked around the large townhouse idly- it was built in the manner of all enormous old pureblood city homes, with a large sitting room where a family portrait would have once hung over the hearth, large kitchens in the downstairs for the elves, and two floors with bedrooms and adjoining baths for the family.<p>

Draco sat on the neat little sofa and took out his little sentences project for the children. The boys and girls had been assigned simple sentences to trace and then write themselves repetitively from their spelling words. Some of the children had obviously had help from their parents, which was _not_ encouraged. Draco was going to have to have a talk with the Doyles.

The wards warped around the house and Draco looked up. Harry walked in and it was as though the air seemed to become thinner and hazy around him-like the few times Draco had gone up to a higher elevation-he felt a bit off kilter, a bit out of breath, and a felt slight dizziness which he highly resented. Yes Harry had some amazing features- lovely green eyes, wild hair, and a regular chin, but he wasn't awe inspiring-he _wasn't. _Draco forced himself to look away before Harry noticed he was looking and back to the papers he was grading.

Harry rounded around the back of the sofa and leaned over the back of it so that his breath was tickling Draco's neck. Draco counted to a hundred backwards in ancient Greek to maintain some of his control.

"What are you going?" Harry asked.

"Grading papers," Draco replied. "Maths- they're learning parts from a whole, see? They're shading in the little bits of the circle."

Harry pointed to the page. "That little one's made it look like a pizza."

Draco looked down. "Well, Marc Perry is a bit of a trouble maker- I stepped out of the classroom once to answer the Floo when Teddy was ill and he began singing _arse arse arse _at the top of his lungs. It was anarchy."

Harry laughed uproariously and sat down beside Draco on the sofa. He picked up the sheet of paper and looked at it as though he could see something Draco couldn't. That was something else about Harry- he could tell Harry about these ridiculous anecdotes about his classroom and Harry listened, truly listened as though he was interested in the daily life of a wizard who spent his days getting glue out of his hair, or telling Linda Jones _not_ to spellotape her hands to her feet when they did paper dolls for crafts. With Algernon the interest was there but it was remote- crouched in humor and comfort and the distance of knowing everything already.

Draco pulled out his roll of stickers and put one at the top of Marc's assignment. The sticker immediately winked and shouted _job well done_!

"Do you always give them stickers?" Harry asked.

"Always," Draco said firmly. "You can't give children food because it's messy and they get rowdy and toys just cause jealousy. So something shiny, small and simple."

"Hmm," Harry mused, carefully taking the pile of papers of Draco's lap and placing them on his coffee table. "I wish I could be satisfied with something shiny, small, and simple. Life would be so much easier."

"Life would be," Draco said wryly. "Did you have a nice day at work ruining your paperwork?"

"I _didn't_," Harry cried, affronted, putting his head in Draco's lap. Draco would never admit this, except perhaps under some means of torture not yet invented, but his favorite part of Harry was his hair. He thought it rather described Harry rather well- from far away it looked thick and ordinary, but as soon as you touched it you realized that it was soft, wonderful, and heavenly- and unbelievably rare. Draco contented himself making the cowlicks stand up one way and then another, a soft smile on his lips.

Harry nuzzled his face into Draco's stomach and wrapped his arms around his waist. "I haven't seen you in _days,_" he moaned as if Draco had gone on an expedition to the Arctic without letting him know.

Draco snorted. "I'm here now, Potter, you arse."

Harry looked up and his glasses were crooked from pressing his nose into Draco's robes. Draco gently took them off his nose and placed them on top of his grading quill. Harry sat up and moved forward so that he was nose to nose with Draco, and then delicately brushed his hair away from his ear.

"Let's go upstairs, then, Malfoy, you shit," he whispered and Draco swallowed feeling nerves and _heat_ rise up his spine and down his body.

* * *

><p>Harry's bedroom was surprisingly nice, if not neat. It was done in browns and burgundies, probably the closest that Granger would let him to his childhood red and golds, with a large four poster bed with a thick duvet. On top of the dresser was an enormous Muggle wireless, caked with a layer of dust, and on one wall was a lone shelf with photographs of so many dead people that Draco avoided looking that way whenever possible.<p>

Draco toed off his shoes, but he didn't get much farther than his socks before Harry pushed him onto the bed, tearing at the buttons of his dress robes with single minded abandon. "Want you," Harry growled, and Draco felt himself alternatively harden _and_ melt into the mattress at those words. "Don't want anything as much as I want you, Draco. _Gods._"

Draco heard the buttons of his robes scatter across the hardwood floor of Harry's room like the lost pieces of his common sense but he didn't stop-instead he shimmed out of the tatters of his robes as Harry ripped off his own.

"_Lord,_" Harry said, and Draco arched up and into his arms, pulling down his pants relentlessly and Harry did his own. Harry was biting along his neck-hard, angry nibbles that he then sucked and soothed with his tongue and Draco though he was going to faint, die, and someone was going to have to scoop off the puddle he was from this mattress.

"I want to eat you alive," Harry said, his green eyes focusing intensely as stared into Draco's "I want all of you, _always._"

Draco closed his eyes and _moaned _as Harry bit along the dip and rise of every rib on his right side and then methodically showed the same attention to the left. There was a bit of a shuffle before he felt the same attention on his hipbones-sharp bites, fierce, demanding suction, and then the soothing swipes of Harry's tongue.

"Please," Draco sighed incoherently, digging the heels of his hands into the duvet for relief. "Oh, please, _Harry-_"

Harry swallowed him down quickly and Draco saw flashes of lights behind his eyelids as his leg twitched uncontrollably at his side. He was sinking and downing in sensation and it was so good, so blessedly, divinely-

"Why did you stop?" Draco said, scowling down at Harry's messy hair and slick red lips.

"Because I said I wanted all of you, Draco," Harry said huskily. "Turn around." Draco turned around slowly. They'd never done that before-not once in these three months, and despite everything else they had done, this felt like crossing an unseen barrier, like some point of no return. Draco wanted to stop him, to tell him no but Harry's breath was already warm on his backside, pressing soft kisses against his spine, delicate and sweet, and nothing like the man possessed by intention that Harry usually was in bed. By the time he caressed Draco's cheeks and began to lave the center within, Draco was crying out for more, anything, everything-his moment of doubt forgotten.

"I'll make you feel good," Harry said, sliding up and entering Draco quickly which made them both moan. "I swear to the gods I'll always make you feel this good." Harry sucked a vicious lovebite onto the back of his neck as he moved and Dracoscreamed hoarsely letting the violent motion of the rocking bed take him up and _away-_

* * *

><p>Draco opened his eyes. From the lack of light coming in from the window he could tell it was very late. Gods, what had he done? He had meant to spend an hour or two at Grimmauld Place and instead he had spent <em>hours<em> in bed with Harry Potter as though he had nothing better or nowhere else to be but underneath the man. What would Algernon think? Draco stretched, trying to think of a lie that would make some sort of sense, but the only logical thing was that he'd gone off and gotten pissed, for the second time with Harry Potter- he'd used that excuse the first time at the gay club, and at least then it had been true, although they had also messed about a bit.

Now, they were merely getting sloppy.

Draco looked at the collection of marks and bites on his body that he_ could _see and tried to imagine the ones that he couldn't. Unbidden a small smile came to his face- Harry Potter was extremely possessive, and there was something oddly attractive about a man who wanted to tell the world you were his so visibly. But Draco had to wonder if his allure was only because he was already taken.

Draco pulled on his pants and had to cast a mending spell on his robes with the buttons that he had to _accio_ from the four corners of the room. He was fairly certain what he looked like but perhaps if he snuck in late Algernon would be working and he could change into another set-

Harry was downstairs in the kitchen frying up some bacon by the time Draco found him, several pieces of thick bread slices in front to him.

"Are you trying to bribe me with bacon butties?" Draco frowned. "You let me sleep past ten on a school night, I'm going to look like I was up to something."

Harry laughed. "But this time you were up to something, Draco. You remind me of my friend Yolanda, she always liked to eat the most disgusting things and would get all haughty about it."

"I am not being-" Draco started, and then he paused. "What do you mean, who is Yolanda?"

"A friend from New York," Harry said blithely, placing the bacon on several sheets of paper towel with his wand. "She was at the Auror Academy with me and she used to love to eat hotdogs, vile things, I got sick off of them once and I never ate them again. She had a son that she gave birth to as a teenager and she wanted to finish up her education to provide for him. She was very motherly."

"That's the most I've ever heard you say about your time there," Draco said, feeling the sixth sense that something wasn't entirely right. "Why did you leave?"

Harry paused in layering the sandwiches with bacon. "There were a lot of reasons," he said slowly.

"Really," Draco said sharply. "Since I'm already late going home, Potter, why don't you illuminate me as to the reasons?"

"I was homesick," Harry said, staring into the butter dish as though it held all the secrets to the universe. "And the girl I was seeing at the time began sleeping with one of our instructors. I just knew I _had_ to go home after that- I was missing out on Teddy growing up and everyone's lives-"

"Wait a moment here," Draco said with deadly calm. "You were seeing a _witch_ who cheated on you and you were so bloody devastated that you up and left that country but it's perfectly fine for you to play part and parcel to my own infidelity!"

"It isn't like that," Harry protested with the hypocrite's skill. "She and I were only a casual thing and it didn't really matter so much- if anything it was just the straw that broke the camel's back, Draco, I was dying for any excuse to come back to England permanently, but too stubborn to admit defeat and come home when every time I came on holiday everyone seemed so happy. And Draco, you and I are _completely_ a different case- the only reason we're in this mess is because you won't leave Bones!"

"Oh," Draco laughed sourly. "So it's my fault you're attracted to me, is it, Potter! It takes two to bloody shag and it's as much your fault as it is mine! As for me leaving Algernon, why would I? All we do is spend anytime we have together shagging, rowing, and then have a small honeymoon period on an endless loop!"

"Draco," Potter said stiffly, as though Draco had hexed Granger or Weasley instead of just telling the bloody truth. "You _know_ you're in love with me!"

Draco stilled. Did he _know_ that he was in love with Harry Potter? Every sign seemed to indicate yes- despite the fact they agreed on nothing, fought over everything, and had only their wild sex lives to comfort themselves with. Draco _did_ love Harry more in three months than he had cared for Algernon in three years of dating. It made him sick with the sense of betrayal as well-Algernon had been there for him during his worst years and had loved him and supported him whilst he was still in therapy and through parole-what kind of person _was_ he to cast it all aside to chase after Harry Potter like a crazed fan the moment he came back into town?

"I do," Draco admitted softly, and he hated to see the brightness in Harry's overly youthful green eyes, because he was going to dash it in the next moment.

"But there are more important things than love," Draco said, _accio_-ing his shoes which toddled down the stairs without feet in them.

"What's more important than love?" Harry scoffed. "I'm _alive_ today because of love, Malfoy!"

"And I was almost killed because of my mother's blinding love for my father!" Draco retorted, taking the stairs two at a time to the sitting room. "So all love is frankly not created equal, Potter. And love is not the most important thing in the world- you can love someone and endanger their lives, and hurt them and make a fool of them or cause them to believe things they'd never believe outside of your influence. Love is frankly the _last_ thing I value in a relationship, because it is the first thing to _fade._"

Harry rounded around the coffee table and pulled Draco into his arms, stroking his hair gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's the war, I missed so bloody much going away- I know. I wish we could have been together from the first, right from the trials, Draco. But I know you and I are meant to be together and I'm _not _going to give up-not because you need me, but because we need each other. I think you needed Bones once and you don't anymore. And I know you love me and I love you."

"_What_?" Draco paused and looked up into Harry's serious face.

"I said I love you," Harry said firmly. "And I'm not alright with you living with _Bones_ while you're in love with me, and I'm in love with you. We deserve to be together, Draco and in the same house and I'm not going to tiptoe around my feelings anymore and wait for one sunny morning when you realize you want me best."

"I know," Draco nodded. "I'll have to talk with him."

Draco could tell Harry was one step from asking _when_ so he kissed him on the mouth; gently and thoroughly until they were both panting. "Soon, Potter. But I still have to go back there- my clothes and lessons are there and I have work in the morning."

Harry held him a little tighter. "I love you- tell me you love me."

"I love you," Draco sighed. "Now, let me go."

* * *

><p>When Draco arrived home at nearly eleven on a work night; all the lights were off in the townhouse. Draco had never felt completely alone there- it had always felt more like part of the Bones' estate than a real home Draco could live in. Perhaps that was why he felt more comfortable at Grimmauld Place- you could do thousands of galleons worth of restoration on an old house like that but the magic in it would still recognize the blood of the Blacks.<p>

Draco crept into the bedroom and without casting _lumos _slid out of his torn and mended robes and into a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He would have cast a few healing charms over his body if he'd known any, but he'd barely gone to school seventh year, which was a mockery, and he only sat an educator's NEWTs, which meant there was enormous gasps in his knowledge of the most basic spells and charms.

Draco had the sinking suspicion Harry was using that to his advantage.

Draco turned on the light in the en suite bathroom and winced. There was a livid, angry lovebite just under his earlobe and another under his hair on his neck. With the slightest gust of wind his hair and the poverbial house of cards he had going would both fall. Draco quickly brushed his teeth and _nox_ed the light.

Algernon was facing the wall, his body too stiff to be asleep.

"Draco," he said evenly.

"Yes," Draco said with false brightness, a little _too_ bright. "I'm sorry, I lost track of the time and-" _Harry Potter was shagging me into the mattress._

Algernon laughed roughly, dryly. "I see. I suppose we'll talk about this soon, won't we?"

"Yes," Draco said, pulling the sheet around his body as he stared up into the darkness.


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Hey everyone! I am so glad everyone is enjoying this story so far, it really makes my day to the see reviews after I post. Well, one reviewer mentioned the Ministry loo scene- there's something inside this chapter just for you, then. And for everyone else, I hope you'll enjoy and tell me how you find the chapter._

* * *

><p>Chapter 20:<p>

Harry leaned his muddy boots against his desk and opened his _Daily Prophet_ to the crossword puzzle. Just because he wasn't any good at it didn't mean he didn't keep trying it, day after day, especially after another one of Robards' awful quarterly meetings.

Harry was glad it hadn't been he himself who had fallen under Robards' stern gaze and had been treated to a twenty minute speech filled with his mindless clichés- instead it had been Bones and Sampson.

Bones and Sampson were currently tracking Avery and Yaxley; two of the last standing Death Eaters and they had butchered their stakeout so badly by falling asleep that the Death Eaters had escaped and sent Robards a rather taunting letter by mail.

"I would hate to be Bones," Ron said from across from Harry, as though he could read Harry's mind-and after over a decade years of friendship Harry wondered if he could.

"Robards said they've got one more chance to clean up that case with the Unspeakables and from the little Hermione can say about it, it isn't going to be easy."

"Hmm," Harry agreed, sympathetically. He _did_ feel badly for Bones- whilst Bones spent much of his days and nights in Ministry safe houses with Unspeakable ward crackers and Arthimancy experts; Harry spent all his time shagging Bones' boyfriend Draco Malfoy.

Though it would have never been like this if it hadn't have been for that case, Harry was sure. Draco had been at the point of telling Bones when Robards had sent Bones and Sampson to catch Avery and Yaxley- it was a strange choice since there were more senior Aurors on the force, but Harry soon discovered why: Sampsons' wife's mother was an Avery and they were hoping to lure him out using Sampson as bait. So far Avery hadn't fallen for their ruse.

Harry yawned and opened his paper up again to the crosswords. No matter how badly he did feel for Bones, it wasn't going to stop Harry from taking his boyfriend away once the week was through. He had finally convinced Draco to leave Bones once and for all and there wasn't anything that was going to stop them being together.

"Slow day," Ron sighed, stretching out his long legs under his desk. "Have you got the sports page, Harry?"

"Yeah." Harry said, passing the page to Ron without looking up.

"Harry," Ron said. "Why don't you come over to dinner-or Hermione and I can go out with you somewhere- you must be lonely at times, mate."

"At times," Harry responded idly.

Harry felt the worst for the deception towards Ron and Hermione, although it did give him some insight into how Draco felt about that stone wall Bones. Ron and Hermione had been there for him through everything and he was repaying them by being a boldfaced liar, and a hypocrite too. Harry knew how badly the way he started his relationship with Draco would come off- even though Draco and Ron had mostly buried their history Ron would _never_ approve of Harry taking away a fellow Auror's bloke, especially a person he admired. And Hermione would see Harry some sort of hapless victim or some sort of fool or worse.

"Then," Ron said eagerly. "We should go out, Harry- to the Muggle cinema, or maybe to a play, Gin and Nott went to see _The Room with No Elves_ and then said it was really rather sad, you'd think it would be funny. Oh well, maybe you and Hermione could find something in Muggle London."

"Alright," Harry said, guilty enough to be prodded into anything. "But let's just go to a nice quiet dinner in Muggle London, Ron. Gods know that I don't want the press following me around."

Harry had another reason for requesting that, which was that he hoped to meet up with Draco afterward at Grimmauld Place and if he went to a show and a dinner he'd be home so later that he'd be too exhausted for more than a cuddle and a few half-hearted snogs before bed. Harry sighed and pushed down the layer of guilt which threatened again to bubble up to the surface.

"Alright," Ron beamed companionably, and Harry wished he had worse friends or was a better person. "I'll call Hermione on my break."

Harry turned back to his puzzle and inked his quill again. He had always thought that at nearly twenty-two his life would have been entirely different. When he was seventeen at this age he pictured himself married to Ginny with a few children and everyday he would kiss her cheek and go off to the Aurors. Harry snorted to himself. At least the Aurors had come true, but instead Draco Malfoy had him alternatively on his knees or by the throat, depending on natural blond's moods.

"Hey Ron," Harry said, knocking Ron's boot with his own and disturbing his friends mid-day slumber. "What's a four-letter word for charlatan?"

"I believe the word you're looking for is liar, Potter," a _very_ familiar voice drawled from the doorway.

Draco was in the doorway wearing his familiar sinfully tight jeans and Muggle trainers along with a black v-neck t-shirt although nothing cut as low as the time they had gone out to the club or Harry would have walked in front of him like an angry bodyguard until he went into a shop and got himself changed. Draco met his eyes and there was the briefest moment of amusement and affection before he looked away, as though he was afraid to reveal too much while Ron was in the room.

"Malfoy," Ron said neutrally. "Don't you have a classroom of toddlers to teach?"

"Not in the summers, Weasley," Draco rolled his eyes. "Don't you remember that in the summers we had our holidays from Hogwarts?"

Ron's ears turned a bit pink. "I need a job like that," he muttered vaguely.

"Are you here to see Bones?" Ron asked and Harry nearly snapped his quill. "Because I think he's spending all day and night at that safe house, Malfoy."

"No," Draco said easily. "Someone else entirely- Chang, we're going to lunch together, actually. I did know that Algernon would be going away today. Well, I'll be seeing you lot around sometime. Potter, Weasley."

Harry got up quickly from his desk. "I walk with you towards the dispatch, Malfoy, I really need the loo."

Harry didn't turn around to see what Ron had made of his swift exit-hopefully he put it up to some bladder issue, a fact that made Harry cringe a bit inwardly. Harry walked with Draco, not toward dispatch, but both towards the men's lavatory down the hall. Luckily no one was there and so Harry cast a quick locking charm on the door.

"Need the loo?" Draco looked as though he was going to burst into laughter. "And Merlin, Potter, you can't lock the door to everyone-wizards have to go."

Harry spun Draco around so that he was facing the door to the bathroom and Harry's body was pinioning him there. "You look bloody gorgeous in v-neck shirts," Harry husked, tracing a hand from under his pointed chin to the temping tip of the v of the shirt. "Makes me want to rip it off of you."

"Does it?" Draco questioned shakily, slipping a leg between Harry's splayed ones. "I would have never guessed."

"You're a bloody tease," Harry growled, kissing him forcefully. He heard the moment Draco's head arched back against the wooden door the dull bang it made and he still didn't stop. He wanted to smother him whole in kisses- trying to combine them into one person was quickly becoming Harry's newest and deepest obsession and as he knew he couldn't ever find a solution to his dilemma, Harry was going to spend the foreseeable future enticing Draco Malfoy back into his arms.

"_Don't-_" Draco said, and contradicted himself by moaning and throwing his arms around Harry's shoulders. Harry nibbled around Draco's ear when-

_Knock. Knock._

Draco laughed shakily and Harry wanted to hex whoever was behind that door to death. A moment later he heard footsteps walking away.

"You nearly convinced me to have sex with you in a loo for the second time," Draco said wearily. "That is indeed the world's most disturbing record."

Harry thought it was something he ought to be proud of but instead he kept quiet. "I'm going out to dinner with Ron and Hermione, will you be there when I get back?"

Draco nodded and looked away guilty. Harry bit down his upset-frankly he couldn't wait for the day when they could be out in the open with no secrets between them.

* * *

><p>The Italian restaurant Hermione picked out in Muggle London seemed as though it came out of a parody. There was the red and white checked tablecloths, the little stump of a candle in a red bulb vase, the daughter of the chef as the waitress-and then the chef himself- a large, fat, genial Italian man with a stained white apron who guided them to their seats with a clap on the back for both Ron and Harry.<p>

Harry didn't care-the food was delicious and the anonymity was a relief and a change of pace from the paparazzi that tended to haunt the area from the Ministry to the vicinity of which they thought his house stood.

"Isn't this great?" Ron said around a mouthful of bread. "I can't remember the last time we did this?"

"Swallow, then talk," Hermione admonished, sipping a glass of red wine. "But yes, I'm happy too, Harry. Work has been so hectic lately collaborating with the Aurors we've been short-staffed and tempers have been at an all time high. So, Harry, what have you heard from the Minister?"

"The same thing," Harry shrugged, dipping a crust of bread in olive oil and swirling it around, more to have something to do than to have something to eat. "They want to give me the Order of Merlin on my birthday this year."

"What will you say to the Minister?" Ron said slowly, putting down his fork to gauge Harry's reaction.

"I suppose I have to say yes," Harry winced.

Harry looked away from Ron and Hermione's pleased expressions. He didn't want this-this award to show that he had disarmed another wizard in a duel and so had saved the world. The people who deserved it- like Dumbledore, and Snape, and even Draco's wily mother, were never going to receive their due. Even Ron and Hermione deserved it so much more than he did- they had saved his neck at least a hundred times, and he couldn't thank them enough for it. What was he supposed to do with a ball and a medal except hang it around a peg in his closet somewhere?

"You can tell them you don't want any fuss," Hermione said, as though she could read Harry's discomfort with the idea. "Just a quick speech from the Minister and you won't have to say anything."

"I can bodyguard for you," Ron said, puffing up and trying to look intimidating. "Mr. Potter _said_ no pictures."

Harry laughed. "I guess I can come as you lots' plus two and the _Daily Prophet_ can start up a new rumor- some menagerie rot."

Hermione laughed. "That's _menas a tois _you dolt," she corrected.

They all laughed together over another glass of wine.

* * *

><p>Harry shucked off his robes and climbed into his sheets. Draco lay across from him, his light brown hair fanned out on the pillow. He had fallen asleep reading an Arthimancy tome that looked so dry Harry would have needed three glasses of water just to stomach one page. But Draco liked those sorts of books- he was so finely educated, unlike Harry who had never sat his NEWTs. Harry smiled, slipping a galleon from his pocket in between the pages as a placeholder before putting the book away in Draco's banged-about book bag.<p>

As soon as Harry laid down, though, Draco woke up- his soft grey eyes blinking hazily.

"Harry," he smiled and Harry felt a bit like he had bit hit with a stunner. "I must have fallen asleep. That's what I get for reading about transcendental numbers and charts while waiting for you. Is it late?"

"Just after eleven," Harry said apologetically. "Sorry, Hermione, Ron and I got to talking about my birthday."

"Birthday?" Draco questioned. "What of it?"

"They want to give me the Order of Merlin," Harry snorted. "It's come up now and again every year but this year there's a rather big push-since it's the fifth anniversary and all. I suppose I have to do it."

"I'm surprised they waited this long," Draco mused idly. "If it bothers you that much say that the only way you'll accept it is if they name one posthumously for all the dead heroes that supported you in the war."

"Draco that's genius!" Harry said, leaning over and kissing him passionately. "Gods, I wish I could take you as my date- it'd make this whole thing bareable."

"Next time," Draco promised, sliding off Harry's pants and then his own as well. He looked into Harry's eyes and hooked his legs over Harry's shoulders in an invitation for more as Harry kissed and fondled and stroked.

"Next time," Harry whispered as he buried himself within, over and over, and soon there was nothing more to say as instinct took over.

* * *

><p>Harry was bored out of his mind. He had come alone to the Ministry ball to Hermione's confusion and Ron's amusement. He had danced badly with Ginny, and Hermione and Luna and outright refused to dance with another female, despite the hopeful stares of all the available females and half of the not-so available ones. Harry had dressed up in tailor-made robes but the fabric still itched and he swore that they were too costly and his shoes pinched. He had listened to the Minister's speech, smiled and taken his award, and had drank more watered down drinks than the whole of the time that he had been in New York and they had referred to him as <em>Party Boy Potter <em>in the rags.

Where the bloody hell was Draco?

Harry had insisted that all his Auror coworkers be allowed admittance with their spouses, just so Draco could come, but that still meant that Draco would come on the arm of Bones tonight. Bones. After this dangerous case ended Draco would be free and Bones would be history. Harry had no idea how he and Bones were going to work together, since as it was Bones barely tolerated him. But Harry hoped that he would be at the very least cordial enemies-the best man winning and all that rot.

Harry sipped on his champagne, the only drink that was not watered down when-_Draco_. Draco was wearing slim cut dark gray robes in the style that made Harry feel like a ponce, but they made Draco look as though he was lit from within, highlighting his lovely grey eyes and the shine of his darker hair and his cheekbones. Harry could almost envy his beauty if it wasn't already his by extension.

Harry got up from the table and making sure that he had Draco's eye contact he made his way toward the stairs of Highboor Castle where the ball was taking place. Harry made his way through the locked and warded rooms before he found a room that was being used by the house elves to store cloaks and handbags.

After a few moments Draco followed- up close he looked even more stunning, the reverse of Cinderella- a prince restored to all his glory. He beamed at Harry and then took his hand.

"So, many happy returns, Potter," Draco drawled. "How does it feel being as old as I am?"

Harry laughed. "Lovely, really grand. Your plan worked with the posthumous Order of Merlins-they'll be awarded next year."

"I'm glad," Draco said, sitting down on the bed piled high with cloaks. "Imagine all these people coming to see you and you can't stand any of it. How ridiculous."

"I'm not like that," Harry said, tracing the tip of Draco's chin with his fingers. "You know that now."

Draco nodded, dipping his chin so that he could catch Harry's fingers and suck on them suggestively. With a nip to his index finger, Draco let them go, leaving Harry aroused and wanting. "I know you aren't," Draco whispered, toying with the first clasp of his new robes.. "But I also know that everyone has a role."

Harry looked at Draco intensely. "I wanted to be alone with you on my birthday."

Draco turned around to undress and smiled suggestively over one bare shoulder. "But we are alone, right now. So we might as well make the most of it, no?"

Harry stripped off his clothes rather quickly after that and threw off the cloaks and beaded handbags from the bed without a care for how much money a nutty old which had spent on this or that one in order to look nice at his birthday gala. Draco smirked at Harry approvingly and with a firm push backed him onto the bed, staring at him with a possessive glint in his eye.

"It's your birthday," Draco said, tracing a hand down Harry's side and he trembled in anticipation. "Happy Birthday to you."

Harry sighed blissfully as Draco kissed him softly, gently, and then as quickly as they started the kisses were gone. Harry opened his eyes and Draco had his wand in his hand and was lubricating his fingers, he watched as Draco moved against his chest, stretching himself.

"_Want _you," he moaned- "Want you so bloody much, Potter-"

Harry fisted these stranger's sheets as Draco sank on top of him, wincing as the heat and pleasure and tightness encircled him like a velvet fist. He closed his eyes but then he felt Draco's hand forcefully grasp his chin and hold it steady.

"I want you to watch me," Draco said breathlessly. "_See me-"_

Once Harry started looking he couldn't stop- it was Draco astride him- and they were moving together and it was heaven, so _hot-_

In the end Harry had to close his eyes.

But when he opened them, he saw Hermione watching from the doorway, her face ashen.

Harry gripped the first cloak he saw and covered Draco with it. Draco snorted.

"Harry," Hermione sighed. "How_ could_ you!"

That was what Harry had wanted to avoid- this scene of recriminations where everyone came off seeming worse than the story actually was. Wait. Harry actually didn't have a real excuse for what he was doing- in the end he had fallen for someone who had a boyfriend and who hadn't left the poor sod. Story as old as time.

"I didn't want to tell you like this," Harry began, hoping to salvage the last bits of their dignity and this situation. "But I love Draco and he loves me-" "Love?" Hermione snorted, her face contorted with disgust. "Do you call this _love_ what you are doing? Do you even think of what will happen when Algernon Bones hears about all of this?"

"I _am_ here," Draco chimed in angrily and Harry winced. Of the pairings in his trio, Draco and Hermione got along the least, probably on account of her academic standing and her nature to tell others what to do- Draco found it offensive, and Harry could see why, as much as he loved Hermione.

"I don't think you can judge anyone without knowing the full story," Draco continued stiffly and Hermione crossed her arms viciously. "What goes on between Potter and I is strictly between Potter and I and just because no other man but Weasley has ever found you attractive, Granger, doesn't mean you have the right to dictate to the rest of the world."

Harry looked at Draco pleadingly but Draco stared him down into submission-_great._ Hermione watched _that_ exchange with a level of disgust in her face that she usually saved for Conservatives in the Ministry and Crookshanks when he shredded her paperwork.

"I don't know what you think you are doing, Harry-" she began superciliously but then there was a bang downstairs and a witches' sharp cry.

"You'd better _both_ get dressed and come down," Hermione said, as something that sounded like a overturned table and a crash of glassware and cutlery went flying to a wall. Someone wailed and another person screamed _no_ in a deep, masculine voice that Harry didn't recognize before the rumble of feet began as though a stampede.

Hermione gave one deep disgusted glare more before slamming the door shut and leaving.

"What do you suppose is going on down there?" Draco shouted over the increasing cacaphony. Harry winced as someone cried out _let it go_ and another person dragged something heavy back and forth against the floor-either a piano or a large banquet table.

"No idea," Harry muttered, as they both finished dressing. "But we're about to find out."

When they got to the landing of the grand staircase, Harry stopped in his tracks. Yaxley and Avery were there and they were dueling Sampson and Landry, who both had their wands out. The room was in complete disarray- the tables had been overturned, the glasses and dishes had been broken, and wine seeped into the white tableclothes like blood. Harry watched, frozen for the briefest moment as Avery taunted Landry, whom he had pinoned against a tapestry before Harry got his wand out and then-

Time. Just. Stopped.

As Harry ran down the stairs he noticed Bones guarding the Minister, who was up against an overturned piano, his dark face ashen. As soon as Bones saw Harry and Draco desending the stairs together- he _knew_. Months of suspicion, and hours of their absense at a dinner party only to show up deshelved- it didn't take much more to put the pieces together.

Bones lowered his wand.

And Yaxley rushed him, cutting across Samspon, who was too busy scolding Draco to go back up the stairs. Bones hit his head against the piano- and he slid to the ground, his body making an audible _thump._

"Algernon?" Draco cried, rushing over to Bones' collapsed figure. "_Algernon!_"

Draco carefully placed Bones' lolling head on his lap, and his hands came away soaked with blood. Bones didn't answer-he was dead.


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: Hey everyone I hope you're enjoying what happened in the last chapter. I did love Bones, but you know he was in the way and it was either drag it out or make things interesting. This way is better- or is it? Hehehe. Love to my reviewers, my reviews this past time were so cute/funny. Justpassingby sent me one that was wonderfully motivating. And whoever sent me the one about laughing about the way Bones died, haha, well, I'm glad you loved it!_

_Enjoy!_

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><p>Chapter 21:<p>

Draco sat waiting in the blue morning room in the town house at Occassion Alley for the reading of the will.

This was his favorite room in the town house with it's lovely giant west facing windows and its gold leaf paint along the crown molding. There was a painting by Gornelli of the Rising of the Muses which was very pretty as it had three women, two with dark hair and one with light, and it rather put Draco in mind of his mother and her sisters, although that wasn't _altogether_ pleasant. Draco thought the vase in the corner was well done too, with the marbling, but then again, the Boneses loved anything that sparkled, they were rather like kittens in that respect.

Draco _wasn't_ going to think about Algernon.

Not today.

He had come apart too many times after the war and he knew if he just saw one photograph of Algernon the guilt and the shame and the _horror_ of what he had done would eat away at him like a cancer. Algernon had known at the last, whatever else had happened, Draco knew that. Algernon had died knowing he was nothing more than a cheat and a scoundrel and a liar, who had repaid his love and kindness and goodness with an affair with another man. Draco _had_ always told Algernon that he didn't deserve him-and then he had to go and make it true.

But, he wasn't going to think anymore about that.

Draco swallowed heavily and walked to the window to look out the small city garden. There were a few flowers growing, a few roses and a few weeds, neither he nor Algernon had ever had a green thumb or the interest in hiring a gardener. Honestly, Draco had never had an interest in the house- he had always thought it a bit flash after living in Malfoy Manor where everything had been as it had been for nearly a thousand years.

Merlin, he _was_ getting morbid.

What was taking Susan and Algernon's parents so long?

Draco hadn't thought like this in _years_, not since the war- and now Algernon's death was bringing up the old feeling of being haunted and of feeling trapped. Gods, all Draco wanted was for Mr. and Mrs. Bones to come in and tell him he had no claim to anything, as he anticipated so that he could move on to his own poky little flat or back to his aunt's in peace.

Someone knocked on the door and Draco sighed in relief.

"I'm so sorry we're late," Mrs. Bones said. She smiled evenly, lifting the veil from her wide brimmed traveling hat and smiling a rather shaky hello to Draco. "I hope this wasn't too bad for you, dear."

"No," Draco lied, kissing her hand. Draco had met the Bones' a few times during the years at Landsdowne and they had always been kind to him, but it had never been more than a passing acquaintance.

"We'd better get this over with," Mr. Bones said gruffly, his face still as white as parchment as it was at the funeral. "Draco Malfoy, this is our attorney, Niall Polmouth, Mr. Polmouth, my late son's partner."

Draco nearly bit his tongue clear through to keep from protesting over the blatant lie that that was. _Gods. _Living a sham of a double-life and then having something to do with one of your lover's deaths was going to drive him madder than Aunt Bella, he was sure. They were going to have to put him away somewhere and sort out the pieces, one by one, like a scattered puzzle.

_If he could just get that look of stunned realization out of his mind_.

From behind Mr. Bones and the attorney, Susan crept out. She was wearing her black robes open with a smart black lace dress, her lace mantilla drawn away from her face. Algernon would have teased her and told her that she looked like she belonged in a pantomime. Draco felt a fresh wave of guilt and mourning turn his stomach.

"How are you holding up?" Susan said, stroking the sleeve of Draco's new black robes. "You haven't written me since the funeral."

Draco had felt so entirely uncomfortable speaking to Susan at the funeral that he had had to drink two glasses of madeira to get up the courage to say hello, and then he had stopped after that, afraid that he would spill his own secrets in the process.

"It's just hard writing to you on black edged parchment," Draco said, swallowing alongside the lump in his throat.

Susan nodded quickly as though she was going to cry and Draco turned away-he _couldn't_, couldn't deal with her tears, not again. He didn't know what he'd do this time if he saw her cry.

"I think we might as well get started right in here," Mr. Bones said, gesturing to the small drawing room right off the main hallway.

"Indeed," Mr. Polmouth stated, his mouth drawn into a firm, thin line. He waited until the family were all seated before beginning. "As you know, Mr. and Mrs. Bones, you transferred the bulk of Algernon's inheritance to him at the age of seventeen without clause or encumbrance-"

"Why would we have put any limitations on how he spent his money?" Mrs Bones said shakily, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. "Al was always such a good boy."

"Of course," Mr. Polmouth continued superciliously. "A year before his death, however, Algernon came to see me to ask if there was any entailments on the Occasion Alley home, or on Landsdowne. I told him frankly that Landsdowne would pass to his brother Alexander, but that Occasion Alley and his vaults and the contents of this home were his. He revised his will."

"Revised it?" Mr. Bones said softly.

"Yes," the attorney said evenly. "I, Algernon Wallace Bones, being of sound mind and body etc; it goes on for a while in that vein - do behest and bequeath the entirety of my estate to one of whom I am most fond, Draco Cygnus Abraxas Malfoy, for reasons of which he is most well aware."

Draco felt his hands go numb, and his face tingle. _Oh gods, Algernon_ he thought horribly. _How could you leave _me_ anything?_

"Susan," he heard a voice cry in the distance. "Fetch me the smelling salts."

Someone waved something around his eyes and he blinked quickly. Mrs. Bones and Susan looked over him-he was laid out on the settee.

"Would you like some wine?" Mr. Bones asked. "This must have come to you as a terrible shock, my lad."

"No, thank you," Draco said, sitting up quickly. "I'm quite recovered."

But it was a terrible shock-but not for the reasons the Boneses thought.

* * *

><p>The crack <em>still <em>looked like Snape's nose.

Draco stared at it in the darkness. He was back home, back to where it all started, at Aunt Andromeda's pretty little cottage in Kent. Draco closed his eyes tightly, squinted as though the added pressure could clear his mind. He hadn't slept well in three days- it wasn't as bad as before, but it was still bad- the trickles of madness tingling down his spine as real and as palpable as footsteps coming down a hallway. Draco was waiting for it. Sometimes Aunt Andromeda came in the room and changed the dripping candle for a fresh one, but she didn't disturb him. This time she thought it was grief, not some sign of inner failings.

But it was, dear gods, it _was._

Every night Algernon came to him, as alive as he had been just two months before, his dark curling hair and bright smile now a ghostly taunting image to haunt Draco's sleeping hours.

At first Draco had tried to ignore it, he had tried to take a vial of Dreamless Sleep, or simply take a walk until he had exhausted himself, but the dreams always came. Always.

_Avery had the silver tray again, and he was looking at Draco with his disgusting, despicably suggestive oily smile. Draco was no longer seventeen and Malfoy Manor stood all around them in ashes._

_"Open the tray, Draco," Draco wanted to kill him, he wanted to hex him and run, but he couldn't, he was held to the floor with invisible force._

_Draco opened it._

_It was Algernon's severed head with a placid smile on it's face, blood dripping from it's neck around the plate and onto the silver serving dish below. Alongside it was a vial of lubricant._

_"Love can drive a man to the breaking point, can't it?" Avery laughed, and Draco screamed. _

Draco woke up still screaming.

There was some noise downstairs, but Draco paid it no mind, instead he pressed his hands to his face- he felt very hot. If it kept up like this any longer, he was going to go see Healer Levy, or go voluntarily and put himself in a ward at St. Mungo's

If it were possible to go insane from guilt, Draco was.

Draco padded down the hall for the bathroom and brushed his teeth and washed his face. He had thought it was early- the wee hours of the morning, but judging by the sunlight streaming through the small window in the bathroom, it was nearly mid-afternoon.

He passed through the hall and heard Aunt Andromeda speak.

"I won't wake him," she said firmly, and Draco grinned- he owned Aunt Andromeda so much for her loyalty, more than he could ever repay. "Draco hasn't slept well in days since Algernon died and he deserves his rest."

"I know," a voice said softly, and Draco stilled, gripping the hall banister for strength-it was Harry. "If I could just speak to him for a moment-"

"_No_," Aunt Andromeda insisted firmly, but pleasantly, and Draco nearly collapsed in relief.

Draco had no idea what he wanted to say to Harry. His feelings for Harry were so confused by what had happened-they had basically embarked on an affair together, and he was still tangled up in mourning Algernon, however twisted and horrible that sounded. He didn't know if he could go back to being Harry Potter's secret little tryst on the side for dirty weekends at Grimmauld Place, let alone exploring a full-on relationship. His mind felt exhausted, drained, and frayed with guilt- if he had just been able to tell Algernon how he had really felt, and had some type of argument or discussion with him at the last, at least there would have been that, but he had had nothing.

Draco had been a coward, just like he'd always been. Just like he was being now, avoiding Harry as well. That was his nature though- run from a problem until it exploded in his face and then try to unpick the pieces without making a shambles of them.

As soon as Harry left, Draco made his way downstairs. Aunt Andromeda was sipping a cup of tea in the kitchen and Teddy was so engrossed in the telly he hardly noticed as Draco passed by.

Aunt Andromeda passed him a cup and Draco managed a smile for her.

"Harry Potter has come four times this week," Aunt Andromeda said with her piercing gaze. "I assume it wasn't only to teach Teddy how to mount his broom backwards."

Draco smothered a smile- Harry _would_ do something like that. "No," Draco finally said carefully. "I suppose it would not be only for that."

Aunt Andromeda nodded, sitting down on one of the stools. "Do be careful not to move on too quickly, Draco- Harry Potter is a man with fixed ideals and fixed notions, you can keep him waiting a bit longer yet. Unless things have progressed already?"

Draco looked into the sitting room. Teddy was laughing, his peach head thrown back over the sofa as a cartoon ant was devoured by a mole with a hat on. "Things have progressed beyond a sensible degree," he murmured, not turning around to catch Aunt Andromeda's initial reaction.

When he did look her lips were pursed and her eyes shuttered. "I suppose you'll have to deal with Harry then, Draco. As I said, he's a very stubborn young man."

Draco nodded. That was the problem- he had no idea how to deal with all of this.

* * *

><p>Healer Levy agreed to see Draco on very short notice. Draco looked around his well appointed office with something akin to a homecoming feeling- though he had left here over three years ago or even more, he had never felt badly about his parting. Healer Levy, in his clear Muggle eyeglasses and his funny bald head had saved his life, and although he didn't quite owe him a Life Debt; Draco considered it one.<p>

"Draco," Healer Levy said warmly, shaking Draco's hand as though he was a friend and not a patient. "I'm so sorry about Algernon Bones."

Draco could not disguise his wince. "Thank you," Draco said, taking his seat.

Healer Levy took his across from Draco. "It's been a long time, old friend. A very long time. How is everything? Teaching?"

"Very well," Draco smiled. "Thank you for that. But I have to tell you I'm not here because of this or that like before. It's about Algernon's death."

Healer Levy dipped his head, setting his familiar quill to work. "I see," he said. "Grief can often take many forms, Draco. What has been troubling you?"

Draco swallowed heavily. "I assume you know the circumstances surrounding Algernon's death, as they were in every paper," when Healer Levy nodded, Draco continued. "I was having an affair with someone- a coworker of Algernon's. He found out that night, and was distracted. I think it contributed to-"

Draco broke off and stared at his lap-_there was blood on his hands and Algernon wasn't moving or blinking but he was still warm, why wasn't he moving or anything- this was only a dream, surely he wasn't dead-_

Healer Levy cleared his throat delicately and Draco snapped up and stared at him. Healer Levy smiled blandly. "Draco, I must ask you, did you duel with Algernon Bones or Francis Sampson that night?"

"No," Draco sighed, pinching the sides of his head. "And I know I'm not a wanted criminal either, Healer- but I still had something to do with it- he _saw_ us together, if you would have seen his face-"

"Draco," Healer Levy said calmly. "I'm not condoning your behavior but if two wanted criminals hadn't broken into the wards at Harry Potter's Gala this all would have _never_ happened. The guilt you feel is because you had an affair and never got the chance to confess, _not_ because you maimed Mr. Bones in any way that evening."

Draco put both his hands over his face. "I never cared for him half as much as he did me- and I just took advantage- I needed someone and I didn't _know_ I needed someone-he was so good, and funny and kind-"

Healer Levy touched his tense shoulder. "Might I suggest something?"

Draco nodded.

* * *

><p>Draco sat down in the crypt at Landsdowne. There were fresh yellow roses still there- for Hufflepuff, probably from some of Algernon's old classmates. Draco had met a few in his time, but he hadn't met all of them. The room was cold and dank-Algernon would have never liked a place like this- he would have made fun and laughed, he would have wanted to go rowing in the sun in a little blue boat- he would have wanted go to the little London tea shop Draco couldn't even pass by because it made him sick.<p>

Draco sighed.

Healer Levy had suggested writing a letter to Algernon and then burning it- the gods believed that if you did that the spirit would find it somehow beyond the veil. Personally Draco thought it a load of bollocks, but he was willing to try it- anything to lay to rest this guilt and anxiety- the last of this _mess._

Draco had stayed up all day and night for two days before he had written it: _Algernon-I'm so very sorry. _He didn't know what else to say. Finally Draco cast _incendio_ and he left.

* * *

><p>Draco knew that he was avoiding Harry. He knew it because he was purposely doing it and also because he needed to think. Healer Levy had been right- writing to Algernon had released some of the guilt, but not all of it-Draco still had the Occasion Alley townhouse <em>and<em> Algernon's vaults to live with. Draco was loath to spend all the vaults like a heathen who had hit the _Rune Runaway_ but he had to know how much gold and assets were in the vaults, and also it was a good excuse to stay away from Harry, who had taken to haunting the cottage like a Veela mate in heat.

A private Gringotts representative had agreed to meet Draco for lunch at The Regency Muse. Draco sat down in their Imperial Tea Room, thankful that the rumors that he had come into a vast fortune had kept them from barring a former criminal.

"Mr. Malfoy," a smooth wizard called Downes said, taking the opposite seat. "A pleasure."

Draco wondered how much of a pleasure it would be once the accounts were settled once and for all. "I called you today, Mr. Downes, to find out the exact sum of gold that was left in the vault of my late partner." Draco's mouth still had trouble forming that term, although it didn't hurt any longer.

"Ah yes," Mr. Downes said, taking out a ream of parchment. "It was indeed, rather an extensive tabulation. If you do not mind me casting a-?"

Draco shook his head quickly. "Go on, Mr. Downes."

"For liquid assets, if you please, Mr. Malfoy, we are looking at the sum of over one million galleons. In less liquid assets such as artifacts and jewels, so forth, we are looking at a auction or appraisal value of around half a million galleons, sir."

Draco sipped his tea to keep from speaking. _One million galleons_ was more liquid money than the Malfoys had had in centuries let alone at hand. That was a grand fortune, very grand- too much to leave to a lover that was having an affair with another man.

"Please find some way to make arraignments to transfer the artifacts and jewels back to the Bones family," Draco said tiredly. "And I need to find the name of a good estate agent- if the Bones family do not want the Occasion Alley townhouse I want it sold. Can you do that?"

"Oh yes," Mr. Downes beamed. "Absolutely; we cater to our finest clients."

_Wealthiest, you mean,_ Draco snarked internally.

"Well," Draco said dropping a few galleons on the table to pay for their tea. "If you'll excuse me, I must be off. I have another appointment."

Draco crossed the busy Diagon Alley High Street and made his way passed the tea shop and Flourish and Blotts to Supreme Shears. A fancy hair salon with sleek metal chairs and black dragonhide chairs,;Supreme Shears had also opened in the post-war boom, to deal with high-end clientele like society wives and Quidditch stars. Along one wall was smirking and sneering men, and women with sleek hair and mountainous updes who had been styled by the staff- Draco was determined _not_ to join their ranks.

Violet Browne-Longstaff, the proprietress and head stylist, came to the front and looked at Draco as if through an astronomer's telescope.

"Come take a seat," she finally said.

Draco went.

"What are you here for?" She asked.

"My hair is naturally blond," Draco said. "I want to go back to it."

Violet nodded. "You look alright but you could look better. There's a spell to go back to your natural shade. I'm going to recommend that, as well as some lowlights to blend in and give it dimension, as well as a new cut and style. Set?"

Draco nodded. He was fine with anything as long as it was a change- he had hid behind the caramel-colored hair of his Black ancestors for too long- it was time to be blond-on-blond Draco Malfoy again and face the world as himself. Anonymity had not worked and real life needed to start. He needed to be if not brave then honest. And there was nothing more dishonest than a disguise.

Draco didn't look whilst Violet hacked into his hair with her wand. He had worn his hair chin length since sixth year and now mounds of it lay on the floor- white pieces now, like feathers from a dove. His head already felt lighter. Finally Violet said-

"Look."

It was an asymmetrical cut. The left side of his head hardly had any hair, it was cut as closely to the scalp as possible and streaked with black and deep brown highlights. The right side of his hair was longer and swept across his eyes and eyebrow with a huge black thread like a reversed skunk. Draco smiled- he wasn't anonymous anymore, but he certainly could hide behind the artful flop of hair with a toss. He tried it and it fell right back across his face without being disturbed.

"I like it," Draco nodded.

Perhaps now this would be enough to give him the nerve to tackle the final issue- Harry Potter and the future of that relationship.


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: Hey guys, I'm glad everyone is enjoying the story and Draco's ever changing hair lol. My absolute favorite is when people say they spent hours and hours reading this story, because that means you really got into it so that's really wicked. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and tell me what you think, especially since I'm still working on the sequel, so things you might like in there might still be edited in_

_Enjoy!_

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><p>Chapter 22:<p>

Harry was furious.

He _knew_ Draco was avoiding him. Every time he went to the Kent cottage Draco was out. There was always a legitimate excuse- Draco was at his Mind Healer, or Draco went to see the Bones family solicitor, or Draco went to tea with the Headmistress of his school. Everything made _sense -_Harry hated it, he knew that Draco was avoiding him because of what happened with Bones' death.

It was a ghastly business. Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about that- he had wanted to tell his friends about it, to assuage his guilt somewhat- but then he had remembered Hermione's face when she had discovered Draco and Harry in bed together. Harry _still_ hadn't talked to her about it. He had tried, over and over to bring up the topic, but Hermione didn't want to know. She was practicing the very British stiff upper lip of ignoring the problem and hoping that it would go away.

But it wouldn't. Harry knew that he was in love with Draco. Gone were his dreams of living in Godric's Hollow with Ginny and a bunch of children named after war heroes. Instead he'd give his wand just to see Draco Malfoy laugh for a minute continuously- or to see him free and happy, flying in the clouds, above all these problems, taunting Harry for the snitch on a weekend trip. But right now Harry couldn't think of the future- not while everything was up in the air.

Harry needed to speak to Draco.

What happened to Bones, as guilty as he felt about it, wasn't their fault. Bones died because of madmen, not because of their- their _thing_. Harry knew it, and Harry hated those men. Bones should be alive to have another man, _not_ Draco, and to live out his life peacefully somewhere, without fearing for it from scum like Avery and Yaxley who were still at large.

Harry sighed and got dressed. It was time to go to Mrs. Tonks' cottage and settle this whole thing once and for all.

* * *

><p>For the first time in all the years that Harry had been close to Mrs. Tonks, he did not bother to respect her privacy and knock before entering the cottage. Harry knew that if he did and Draco was about; Mrs. Tonks would waylay him with some convenient excuse or tea and he'd never actually get to talk to Draco about the one thing that was burning through his mind; which was what was going to happen between them now that Bones had died. Had Draco wanted Harry because it was the lure of the forbidden- an affair, the Gryffindor and the Slytherin, the good boy and the naughty one? Or was there actually something between them that could stand the test of time with their love for each other?<p>

When Harry came in, Draco and Teddy were on the floor painting with coloring quills, the squat sofa pushed back away from the hearth. The wireless was playing a pop song Harry didn't know, and Teddy was swaying merrily to the beat. Harry noticed immediately that Draco's hair was blond again- blond with dark streaks like a pretty, punk-ish reverse skunk. Harry didn't think that Draco would appreciate the comparison.

The wireless announcer changed the song to yet another tune Harry wasn't aware of and Draco tossed his hair across his face artfully and turned to Teddy. At the same time as the male singer they screamed- _Does your wand hurt when you fall in love!_

"Birds fly high up above," Teddy sang, shimming as he dipped a fresh quill into his paints and drew a squiggle.

Draco picked up his wand from the floor and stood up on the couch. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt that said _I can teach you something. _Harry couldn't see from this angle, but he was sure Draco was using it as a microphone. He smothered a smile as he saved that away as another memory he'd definitely need to put in his pensieve.

"And that's how I know I need you baby," Draco and Teddy sang at the same time.

Teddy ran to join Draco on the couch and that's when he caught sight of Harry.

"Harry!" Teddy said. "Draco and I are drawing. And listening to Meteor Shower- do you like them?"

"Er," Harry said foolishly, too busy watching the way this new haircut made Draco's hair fall across his forehead. "I've never heard of them Teddy."

Teddy pursed his mouth and his hair turned puce. Obviously Harry had been found wanting in some respects. After a moment Teddy turned back to his paints and the blaring wireless, convinced that today Harry had not come expressly to amuse him.

"So you're massive fans of the Meteor Showers?" Harry teased, following Draco to the kitchens.

Draco gave him a two fingered salute. "You loved every minute of it, you knob."

Harry grinned. Standing here, tossing out meaningless banter with Draco made Harry feel relieved and curious at the same time. If Draco was fine, or seemed well, even sporting a new haircut, why had he kept Harry out of his life for the last two weeks? Something like that must have shown on his face because Draco's cheeky sneer fell away to a more seriously thoughtful expression.

"Tea?" Draco offered. "Let's go to the kitchen."

Harry nodded and took a mug from Draco's hand. After Draco poured him a cup, he walked silently toward the sitting room where Teddy was still painting on the floor.

"I'm going to show Harry something upstairs," Draco said to Teddy. "Don't get paint on the carpet or I'll hide your broom from you."

As soon as Draco turned around Teddy stuck out his tongue. Harry bit down his tongue to keep from laughing.

Draco kicked open the door to his room with his foot and Harry peered inside. Harry had only been in his room at the cottage once or twice before- it was done impersonally in blues and whites with Draco's honor NEWTs hung on the wall in an expensive gilt frame. On the rocking chair in the corner was a file of parchments and on the bureau was another file opened and neatly bookmarked with a used quill.

Draco sat down on the bed and motioned for Harry to do the same.

"Algernon left me everything," Draco said in an even, emotionless voice and Harry felt his heart drop to the floor below and land on poor Teddy's head. "His vaults, the Belgavia house- everything."

Harry nodded and took a sip of his tea whilst thinking of what to say. Harry might have been the last one standing in their morbid, horrible charade, but by providing for Draco for the rest of his life Bones had proven himself the better man _and_ had had the last word. Harry felt the familiar feelings of jealousy, disgust and guilt rise up in him like the worst parts of himself.

"What are you going to do?" Harry finally said neutrally.

Draco snorted. "You're jealous of a dead man, Potter, and you can't even cover it properly. It's sick- this whole situation is sick, and I hate myself for not even being able to tell Algernon how much I _don't_ deserve his money or his family's house. The house I'm putting up for sale, and the money- I have no idea, I might donate it, or use it toward Teddy's schooling eventually. The gods know I can't touch it."

Harry stared at the floorboards. However bluntly Draco had put it the situation _was_ sick- what they had done was sick, and Bones had been in the wrong place in the wrong time because of them. Harry couldn't forgive himself that anymore than Draco could.

"Why didn't you let me see you?" Harry finally said, coming to the crux of the matter of his heart. "Why-when you were hurting-"

"I needed time," Draco said softly. "All this time someone has been coddling me, ever since the war ended. I went from my mother to St. Mungo's to my aunt to Algernon and his mansion in Belgravia. What I felt for Algernon was because he made me feel safe in a world that hardly would have accepted me outside his support- I didn't search him out, but he was entirely welcome. I couldn't have calculated it better if I was a cleverer Slytherin."

"And what do you feel for me?" Harry asked softly. If Draco _was_ playing the confident Slytherin Harry hadn't seen it- and Draco always had been rubbish at that role anyway, even when they were children he had been too quick to lose control of his emotions; to get into an argument, to cry.

"You know what I feel," Draco said, taking Harry's hand. "I just don't want to rush this, Potter. I want us both to be sure, in case-"

Harry didn't want Draco finishing that sentence. He couldn't imagine ever having an affair if Draco was his- "Do you not want us to be together?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, that- I never want to see you again. But seriously, I've got my own flat in Camden, and I think we should be more careful, not to hurt anybody. And I don't mean I'm going to cheat on you, Potter, you useless git, so stop looking as though I've managed a worldwide ban on treacle tart."

"I can do slow," Harry beamed, sliding over Draco's body and stroking his hair. "I can do it for a long while, if that's what you like."

Draco pinked at the innuendo. "You're useless, you are."

"You won't be saying that in a moment," Harry said, leaning over to kiss Draco's neck. Gods, he had missed that, the musky softness of his skin and the way he huffed and sighed before he surrendered beautifully underneath Harry.

"Teddy's downstairs," Draco sighed, just before stretching up to cup Harry's face for a kiss.

Harry nodded, turning his face away and panting, his breath coming out in little pants which fanned Draco's pillowcase. "I got it," Harry said, slightly annoyed, but still blissfully cheerful to be with Draco once more. "Just taste the tart, don't eat the whole thing."

Draco gave him a _twack_ on the head for that.

When Mrs. Tonks came back Harry and Draco were seated on the couch together although Teddy was in between them painstakingly describing his drawings which all looked like abstract art. She looked at Harry with an unreadable expression and went to the kitchens and after a moment Draco smiled at Harry and followed her. He came back and nodded.

"Teddy, Aunty needs you in the kitchens," Draco said, further annoying Teddy who treated his art like a badge of honor.

Harry raised an eyebrow as Draco sat down. "Aunt Andromeda knows," Draco sat and Harry blinked rapidly. "She guessed as much, and I had no reason to lie to her. Was there one?"

Harry shook his head quickly. If Draco had admitted the truth to Mrs. Tonks that meant that he was as open with the relationship as Harry hoped that he himself would be. There wouldn't be any secrets- at least not between them and their family and friends. Harry beamed and took Draco's hand.

"Shall we head over to Grimmauld Place?" Draco's mouth worked suggestively. "There was talk of tasting and devouring and I'm not quite full."

Harry couldn't get to the Floo quick enough.

* * *

><p>harry collapsed into the mattress, his muscles aching with sweat and exhaustion. Sex with Draco was amazing- <em>looking<em> at Draco was amazing, sex with Draco was like being eleven and joining the wizarding world all over again- it was a gift that was so amazing that he kept waiting for the shock to die down. It never did. Draco's body was perfect- all soft, lean lines and sharp facial curves. He melted into every movement, and he always reached for Harry for more; _more-please-_ Harry loved being inside him. If he could he would just slip inside Draco's body and _stay_ and damn the world if they tried to part them. Draco was so bloody, beautifully perfect.

Harry stroked the sweat soaked hair back from Draco's forehead and kissed his eyebrow. Draco murmured something and turned toward Harry, as though seeking Harry's warmth and affection. Harry smiled and cuddled him close.

"Harry," Draco said softly.

"Yeah," Harry responded, coasting on a cloud of romance.

"I love you," Draco said kissing under Harry's chin. "I'm hungry."

Harry had no idea how these two incongruous statements had anything to do with anything. "I love you too," Harry tried. "Do you want to go out to eat?"

"No, Merlin," Draco sighed. "Can't you cook me something?"

"_Slytherin,_" Harry said in the same way someone might say _Judas_. "I could have only I haven't been round to the shops. Come with me."

Draco finally got up after fifteen minutes, the lazy sod, and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt of Harry's which had a bit of a hole under one armpit that Harry kept meaning to mend but never had. Usually Harry would have been worried about the presence of the paps but at this late night hour no one was waiting for Harry to come walking down the street from mid-air. Harry reveled in the ability to finally hold Draco's hand like a real couple, without the worry and stress of the last few months wherein every kiss and cuddle had felt stolen.

They went and got some takeaway from Harry's local curry shop and just before entering the house Draco pulled Harry under a lamp and kissed him.

Harry beamed. "What was that for? I'd like to know so I can do it again."

"Never you mind, Potter," Draco laughed, sauntering ahead, leaving Harry where he always was, two steps behind.

* * *

><p>Harry woke up in the morning sunlight and idly scratched his hair- he ought to have washed it last night, like the rest of his body, if he hadn't have been eagerly seeing to every part of Draco's with his lips. He smiled at Draco's hair in the sunlight- he had rather fancied the brunet color, but telling Draco that would only make him stay blonder longer- Draco was as stubborn as Harry, and that <em>was<em> telling. But Harry did like the style- the way it swept across Draco's face and made him look mysterious and vulnerable-

Harry kissed Draco's temple.

Draco rolled over and threw a leg over Harry and yawned hotly onto the space in between his shoulders. "I'm so done in. No more shagging for five years, Potter. I'm banning you."

Harry forced down a smile- Draco thought they'd be together in five years and Harry had questioned his faith in their stability. He ought to have believed in Draco a bit more. "You'll change your mind in the shower," Harry sang out idly. "I'll wash your hair for you, Malfoy."

"Manipulative tosser," Draco said proudly, as though a dog he had taught to fetch had brought him a bone. "Have you got soap again or that body wash-"

A warp in the wards made Harry sit up quickly. "Merlin," Harry mumbled. "Who is here at-" He cast _tempus_. It was two-fifteen. Oh. "Well, I think I'd better go down and see who it is in any case."

Draco stiffened. "I should wait here."

"No," Harry said sharply. "It's probably just Ron or Hermione, you can shower and come down whenever you want. I want you to. _Please._"

Draco looked a bit unsure but nodded anyway.

Harry _accio'd_ a pair of pants which ended up being Draco's, but he tossed them on anyway- Ron would know he didn't wear black pants, but Hermione wouldn't and frankly coming into his house unannounced was really started to wear on him. Even Harry was starting to feel strange about just showing up at their posh apartment at any time, although Ron and Hermione always told him it was fine- it was a bit like living in tents during the war- Harry always had the sinking suspicion he was one step away from catching them shagging.

It was Hermione. She was sitting at the library table she had picked out for him after the war had ended- Harry had always thought the wood was too light for the paint scheme but he hadn't wanted a row and had gone along with it. Scattered along the table were newspapers. Harry flinched.

"It's nearly three and I've tried Floo calling you at least a dozen times," Hermione pursed her mouth. "Where have you been?"

Harry knew that _inside Draco Malfoy_ was somehow not the response she was looking for. "Asleep," Harry answered vaguely. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Is something going on with the press again- you know they lie, I'll just make up some statement."

Hermione passed over a copy of the raggiest rag of the lot, the _News of the Globe_. The News of the Globe had been started immediately post-War by a group of trust-fund Slytherins with a bit of money and a lot of free time who thought that scandal mongering everyone, including themselves, was a brilliant idea. The genius at the top of this scheme was Daphne Greengrass, who had been sued for libel more times than anyone could count but retained a powerhouse team of attorneys. Even her own sister refused to talk to her after Daphne'd written a column about her- the rag went above family.

Harry looked at the headline. _Potter and Malfoy in Love!_ Not so bad, so far. He read on. _Lovelorn lothario Harry Potter(23), best known for saving the world in his best years, and for his playboy days in the States more recently, has taken up with Draco Malfoy; former classmate and nursery school teacher, who survived You-Know-Who's Death Eater's sexual advances by any means necessary. Malfoy, who was connected to the Bones heir who died not four months ago has certainly traded up- and made quite a fortune in the bargain- a source tells News that Malfoy's former lover left him over 1 mil gal. in his will! Wonder what Potter will give him this Yule?_

"WHAT!" Harry barked out, clutching the paper tightly. "This makes Draco sound like a gold-digger _and _a rent-boy! This is _insanity_! Hermione, can they write these things about us- it's all half-truths and insinuations."

Hermione sighed heavily. "You need a good management firm, Harry, to take you on and represent you- even George has representation for his business and his interests. They'll set you up with a proper solicitor and a proper team- I don't think you can let this go on much further. If you do someone can leak something about you and Malfoy's pasts and things can get quite ugly very quickly."

Harry nodded. It was true that he had avoided seeming like a celebrity for so long and he felt like going to one of those high-powered entertainment agencies made him just as over the top as the people he avoided. But now Harry knew things had gone too far and he couldn't very well hide anymore-Draco had been involved, and he had the right to live his own live just as much as Harry did. Hermione was a really good friend for bringing this all here to Harry, especially when she knew about the affair and the deception and certainly didn't approve of Harry and Draco's relationship.

"I know," Harry began lamely. "Thanks Hermione."

"I can call George and ask him who represents him," Hermione offered as she tried not to purse her lips. "Maybe have a representative come by soon?"

"Yes," Harry said, grasping the newspaper tightly.


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: Hello again everyone. To address one review and things in general. Harry and Draco right now are in the very early stages of their relationship, but as I wrote them one character had to evolve much more than the other and one kinda went wild. That's on purpose! However this is a two part-series. Soon something will happen to Harry which is similar to what happened to Draco to force his shift in thinking. No, guys, not parole-_

_Haha. That would have been interesting. Anyway, reviews and donation cookies are always welcome._

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><p>Chapter 23:<p>

"Draco," Livinia Hardwicke stated as warmly as she could manage. "Do sit."

Draco sat. He never spoke to the Headmistress in her office anymore, it had only been done on his initial interview, when she had expressed her hopes for their alliance. Since then, whenever she had needed to find him she had sought him out during the children's naptime in the teacher's lounge, or sent him an owl at home, which he had promptly sent back to her own. Livinia was not a witch who socialized with her staff outside of work, or on tea breaks. She saw each of them, and herself, as cogs in a carriage's wheel.

Draco was beginning to feel like a replaceable cog. The story was out. Everywhere he went, people _looked_. Stared. In shops where he would have had to wait for an age just to get service, he was now ushered to the front of the line by overeager shop wizards; on the streets elderly hags stared at him as though they knew him as well as their grandsons; and their granddaughters giggled as he walked past. For Merlin's sake, when Draco had gone to Gringotts a bloody goblin had asked him if he was ready to recreate a joint vault.

But it was _awful_. There were Howlers. People found his home, only the gods knew how, and wrote him. Called him worthless, a Death Eater, a whore who slept with good men to cleanse his dirty body, his dirty name. They said _he_ should be _crucio_'d like a rabid crup and left to die; that his mother was a courtesan, and his father a coward. Those last two hurt the most because they rang the most true. Draco didn't tell Harry about any of this- it wouldn't have done any good. He just Floo'd up Landry and had him modify his wards. But even Landry looked at him with hard eyes. Landry had been Algernon's friend, and now he knew, they all _knew._

After the wards had been modified, the letters had stopped. All but one.

* * *

><p><em>Draco-<em>

_I don't know how I'm writing this to you. You and I both know what you've done to Algernon now, and I can't believe it, even as I see the evidence. You are my best mate and my confidant, and you lied and tricked us both. _

_I'm hurt, stunned, and heartbroken._

_Let the werewolves and Harry Potter have you, I'm done._

_Susan Bones._

* * *

><p>That had been three days ago. Draco had put the letter in a drawer- he hadn't had the nerve to feed it to the flames when ever word Susan had inked had been truer than <em>veritas.<em>

"Draco," the Headmistress said, snapping Draco to the present day. "I believe you have some inkling of the reason why I've brought you to my office today."

Draco inclined his head. He was an adult now, and while he relished a witty game of tossing the verbal snitch back and forth any day of the week, now was not the time. His week had been horrible, any time he apparated he had the flash of cameras in his face, and he was beginning to feel as though he was in a pantomime version of _The Life and Times of a Malfoy._

"If it were anyone else," Headmistress Hardwicke began simply. "I would have thrown in the robe ages ago. But I believed in you, Draco. I believed in your tenacity, your ability, and your skills as an educator. I only hope that you feel as though I have been as fair as I possibly can be, given the circumstances."

"More than fair," Draco pushed through his molars. He was being forced out of his job because he had had the misfortune of loving a celebrity- what was he supposed to do now; sit at home and darn socks with his aunt? Resentment and annoyance bubbled up in his throat.

"Draco," Livinia said in a surprisingly soothing voice. "Everyone loves a success story- let this be another opportunity for you to rise to the challenge. Remember you are not defined by your _fawning public_ out there; if we may call them that. Such transient emotions will fade."

"Yes," Draco smiled softly. "They will." Draco rose from his seat, sensing the close of their meeting, but the Headmistress coughed politely.

"In the long term," Ms. Hardwicke said curtly. "I'd advise against a union with a young man like Harry Potter. Utterly unstable."

Draco closed the door to her office with more force than what was necessary. "Bitch," he said to himself.

* * *

><p>Draco twirled his pasta around his fork. He supposed it was nice that Harry was trying to be romantic. Really, Draco <em>loathed<em> romance- he'd rather eat bad takeaway and listen to the wireless in his pajamas and shag afterward. People always had the strangest misconception that he was posh because his parents were posh, or that he knew a lot of languages, or that he had traveled to different places. Harry had traveled farther than he had, considering the fact that Harry had been to America since Draco had only been to France once when he had been five. His parents had been very odd about traveling. Well, now his mother _did_ live in France, so-

"You look miles away," Harry smiled. "Where were you?"

"France," Draco said and then winced- he had drunk too much wine to forget about being sacked, which he had just remembered. "I went when I was five. It's the farthest I've ever been from home. Oh, and Ireland."

"Really?" Harry crinkled his nose. "I thought that your family were very big on _society_ and _traveling_ and _zhe arts_."

Draco had nearly laughed at Harry's horrendous accent. Yes- it was well and truly time to switch back to water. "No," Draco said. "Boring. I was sacked today."

Harry's eyebrows tried to meet his hair. Draco sighed- what was he supposed to do; tell Harry a sob story? The whole interview had been so utterly mundane, so simple. Who could be a nursery school teacher while being papped? No one wanted to see an annoyed Draco Malfoy ushering in their child into class over tea in the morning- even if it looked as though Draco was doing his job, it wasn't _right. _It wasn't right that the son of wealthy wizards chose a simple job, and it wasn't right that the lover of a glamorous man wasn't flash himself.

Draco felt very much like _the Malfoy who wasn't._

Harry took a large sip of wine. "It's my fault," he finally said.

"You're so stupid," Draco responded. "Unless that is you under a _glamour_ behind the bushes of the school I worked at every day?"

"Funny," Harry said dryly- good, that meant everything was normal; if Harry was annoyed with him, then things were alright.

"Actually," Harry began again after a moment's pause in which he took a bite of food and swallowed. "This can be a sort of blessing in disguise. I was speaking to that funny solicitor of George's, Mr. Bentworth, and he suggested that we go on holiday for a few weeks. He said that it would give a bit of time for the storyline to die down in the papers, and if it didn't, then we could consider what else to do."

Draco bit his lip. He knew that for better or worse the story _wasn't_ going to die down- they still called Harry _Party Boy Potter_ and the _Boy Who Lived_ for Merlin's sake. But it would be nice to be able to get on with his life, and actually find a job- the gods knew that the Ministry could and would find any reason to make an example of him, and he didn't think he could put _shags Harry Potter_ on his resume.

"Did you request leave at the Ministry?" Draco asked.

Harry started- Draco could tell he had anticipated more of an argument, but Draco was desperate to get away. Probably more desperate than Harry was at this point.

"I was going to ask you first," Harry said, reaching for Draco's fingers covertly on the tablecloth. "So I guess that's a yes, then?"

"No, _don't_," Draco hissed, staring out the window. Being a seeker, and monitoring a classroom of rowdy students had given him keen vision. "Photographers."

Harry looked disappointed. More than that, annoyed. "Tonight, then," he growled.

* * *

><p>Draco didn't know from whom Harry got the idea of Marbella. Probably one of the Weasleys, perhaps one of the elder ones. Draco didn't ask, and frankly he didn't care to have <em>that<em> conversation. He knew now that the Weasleys had found out about him from a rag mag over their morning cuppa just like the rest of the world, and there was nothing to be done for it. They would hate him, just like Granger and Susan, and the rest of the Boneses and Draco's old school friends and whoever else had once thought that he had good sense. Perhaps the only people who had seen this coming were Draco's aunt, his Healer, and the gods.

He was still _such_ a bloody fool.

Only now he was a fool in an exotic location. Draco rose from the bed and left Harry to his dreams. What _did_ Harry dream about? Draco wasn't so egotistical nowadays to believe that it was he himself. Perhaps even in his dreams he caught baddies and chased after the unattainable. Draco was attainable, though, now- very attainable, and very easy to have, and to keep and to hold.

Thoughts like that made Draco wish he had a broom. Draco leaned over the edge of the balcony in their bedroom and stared over the rocky coastline. The water looked black and deep and utterly uninviting- but so mysterious. The water had _such_ depths- Draco rose up to the balls of his feet and leaned over the ledge, staring into the water, watching the choppy waves. He wasn't quite sure what sort of marine magical life lived out in the warm Mediterranean; but he wouldn't mind joining it, at least for a little while. Just for a swim-

_You get that from your mother,_ Father said; with a bit of a smile in his smirk as Draco swam._ The Blacks were always reckless. Be careful!_

Draco blinked and spun around.

Harry was smiling in his pajama bottoms, though there was a bit of worry in the back of his eyes.

"Did you say something?" Draco said, his hands slipping on the metal ledge.

"Just that you should be careful," Harry murmured, wrapping a firm arm around Draco's waist and spinning him around. Without his glasses on Harry had to squint to see Draco even this close. Draco laughed and traced two even circles on either side of his face like invisible lenses. Harry snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I should have _accio_'d them," Harry yawned. "Touché. What are you doing up so early, Draco?"

"Thinking," Draco said idly. Harry was so warm and real. It was only when he was away from Harry that everything seemed so horrible. Draco wondered if it was the honeymoon period of their relationship; or if it would always be this perfect, this sweet. He sent up a desperate prayer to the gods, begging them to allow him to have this and to overlook his previous failings.

"You shouldn't worry about all this press shit," Harry shrugged, pulling Draco even closer until he rested his head on Harry's shoulder. "If it doesn't blow over it will just be something to get used to. That's all."

Draco sighed and cuddled closer. Harry smelled like the rain and the sea- like freedom and like nature and like Potions class. Draco smirked into Harry's neck; Harry would _loathe_ the comparison but perhaps he would understand now since he had come to an understanding about all the rest of that. And about Draco too.

"Bedtime," Harry said, pulling his face away to brush his nose across Draco's brow. Draco wondered what Harry smelled, and if it pleased him at all.

"I'm not tired anymore," Draco murmured, hooking his fingers underneath Harry's pajama bottoms. Harry hissed as Draco stroked his hipbones- Harry was particularly sensitive right there, and Draco only had to touch him there and kiss Harry's neck for him to-

"Bed, _now,_" Harry said commandingly before he slid-along apparated them.

Really, that was just showing off. Although, the bed was glorious- thick cool Egyptian cotton sheets in royal blue; thank goodness in neither of their House colors, they were still competitive. Draco didn't have a second to muse about the bed and the color of the duvet before Harry was on him. Harry was such a very. very good kisser. Sometimes Draco thought about where he learned to kiss like that- had he been born to it? Was it something he learned in the States, or was it something that Draco brought out in him? Draco tried not to imagine that all as they snogged, the slide of teeth and tongue and lips removing his soul from his body.

"You are so bloody fit," Harry laughed, sounding a little bit drunk. He rose over Draco and then pressed a kiss on his left nipple before tonguing it idly. Draco closed his eyes, feeling the zap of the spell all the way down to his toes.

"Harry," Draco gasped, pulling on his hair. "Get your bloody trousers off."

"Right," Harry nodded, the stubble on his chin grazing Draco's stomach. Even that felt so deliciously good it ought to be criminal. "Right, right now."

Harry slid out of his pajama bottoms and reached around the beside nightstand, looking for the little vial of oil. Draco nearly laughed as he nuzzled his nose against Harry's- if Harry would have put his bloody glasses on this morning he would have been able to find the lubricant or his wand by now.

It took another moment, but Harry finally cried, "_Yes,_" and uncorked the vial, dribbling some of the warm liquid onto Draco's thigh in his haste.

"I can't wait to get inside you," Harry growled, and Draco added _dirty_ _talk _to his list of talents. "Going to bury myself-"

"_Gods_," Draco bit his lip and closed his eyes. "Just do it-"

It was his last coherent thought for ages.

* * *

><p>Draco opened his eyes and smiled. Harry was sleeping again, little huffing breaths against his neck. He slept like a baby after a shag, bless him. Draco nearly laughed- he wondered what his sixteen year old self would have done with that information. Probably would have <em>obliviated<em> it out of his temporal lobe. Draco cuddled closer and pressed a kiss right on Harry's chest, where his heart was beating. Perhaps now would be a good time to go for a swim; in the house's pool, it would be great stress relief

Draco rose from the bed and took his _Lithia_ water out of his trunk. The kitchen was a large space, with more windows than walls, giving a great view of the sea and the mountainous vista in the distance. Perhaps tomorrow Harry would like to go out to the shops to get something for the Weasleys- Draco would like to get something for Teddy and his Aunt, and it was better than being cooped up swimming and shagging all day long. Although, the shagging never did get old.

As Draco poured out his potion he noticed a letter on the marble countertop. He paused. It probably meant that the housekeepers had brought in Harry's correspondence from work or from those gingers.

Then Draco paused. It was addressed to him.

_Draco-_

_You are as beautiful now as you were at seventeen, though not nearly as clever. Potter? That is a mistake, my boy! I'd keep away- unless you'd like me to serve you your desires on a tray._

_-A. old friend._

Draco screamed.


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: Hello everyone, just wanted to say thank you all again for reviewing and reading. I know that one of my reviewers said that they thought they knew who the letter was from- well, we'll see if you were right now, but you probably were! Enjoy and let me know what you think._

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><p>Chapter 24:<p>

_A. old friend._ Avery.

Harry pressed the thin bit of parchment out between his hands. Avery and Yaxley were taunting him, but mostly Avery. And mostly Draco. If it would have been himself, Harry wouldn't have cared, in fact he would have relished the challenge after a rather short career of sitting on his arse and filling paperwork for the Ministry. But it wasn't just himself. They had come after Draco, and Harry would _not_ tolerate his relationship to be the hexing board of two malicious psychopaths who had nothing else to do but to remind Draco of part of the reason why he was on _Lithia_ water in the first place.

Harry nearly pounded his fist on Draco's new countertop, but he managed not to do it. Draco was resting in the other room, according to his Mind Healer, a dumpy little wizard with glasses that made Harry's own look stylish. Poor Draco- no, Draco would have jinxed his mouth into a duck's bill if he would have heard that. Harry smiled. Draco had maintained his composure after his shout; until they had made it to the Spanish Portkey Office, and back to London. Then he had calmly Floo'd his Healer, and asked Harry to leave. When Harry hadn't left he had glared, crossed his arms, and told Harry to go to the devil.

The Mind Healer said it was because of the stress, but Harry knew that it was just Draco's personality.

Now the Healer had left, Draco was sleeping, and Harry was alone in Draco's partially unpacked flat. Harry sat down in one of Draco's chairs, the little rocker from the cottage in Kent. Every moment that he deliberated in doing what he needed to was another moment in which Draco was vulnerable, and not only Draco, but Teddy. Harry was under no illusion that if Avery could trace Harry and Draco to Spain that he could trace their signatures down to Kent, or Harry's to Ottery St. Catchpole.

Harry swallowed both saliva and his pride and walked over to the Floo.

Ron was the person who came to the fire. Harry exhaled heavily- even though the whole wizarding world could probably do the maths and figure out that Draco and Harry's relationship had overlapped with Bones and Draco's, Harry still didn't want to see Hermione's disappointed expression. Harry knew that this was nothing compared to the times Harry had cheated with the Half-Blood Prince's book or made fun of someone with Ron. This was deliberate cruelty that Harry had set upon the path because he wanted what Bones had, selfishly. And he had gotten it at the cost of Bones' life.

Harry shook himself- that wasn't true. That was _exactly_ what Avery and Yaxley wanted Harry to begin to believe, but it wasn't true. Bones was dead because of them, not because of Draco, and not because of Harry. Harry had to keep focusing on that, and not on self-blame.

"Harry?" Ron said incredulously. He squinted in the fire. "Is that you mate? That isn't Grimm-yours."

Harry smiled at Ron's near-slip, but his Auror-reflexes kicked in. Just because it looked like Harry didn't necessarily mean that it _was_ Harry.

"No," Harry agreed. "It's Draco's new flat. Is there any way that you could come over here, Ron? There's a threatening letter that we received on holiday, and I really think that you ought to see it."

For a long moment Ron didn't say much of anything at all. Harry could tell that Ron felt extremely uncomfortable with the situation, but Harry wasn't going to leave Draco while he was resting, or at all, actually. It was too risky, and too foolhardy. In fact; it would play into every rumor about _Harry Potter_ that criminals had ever heard.

"Alright," Ron finally conceded. "Make some space and let me leap through."

Ron came through the fireplace in a mass of ashes; Harry figured it was because Draco hadn't had the chance to properly clean out the fireplace as he still was moving in from Kent and Bones' mansion. Ron was wearing his house robes and he looked rather tired; Harry felt awful for having to place yet another heap of bad news on his best mate, especially after Ron had just recently learned about Harry's relationship with Draco. Harry hadn't even had the chance to find out if Ron's disappointment sprang from the Bones fiasco or from the fact that it was Draco Malfoy that Harry was shagging.

"Nice flat," Ron said neutrally, admiring the high ceilings of Draco's spacious loft. Harry nodded evenly- there wasn't much he could say in the fact that Draco had chosen to live on his own except that he had. Still, it was a hell of a lot better than living with Bones, and Draco spent a great deal of time at Grimmauld, anyway.

"It's Draco's style," Harry shrugged, remembering how uncertain he had felt in his own modern place in America. "How's Hermione?"

"You mean how's Hermione taking it?" Ron grimaced, seating himself on one of Draco's chairs- Harry had never seen it before and he hoped it hadn't come from Occasion Alley. In fact, his chest monster raged at the idea.

Harry nodded.

"Well," Ron said and Harry could almost hear him struggling to be diplomatic. "She's upset that you didn't tell her. That you didn't tell either of us. But considering how everything played out, Harry, I can see why you didn't. Did he not want to leave Bones or something?"

Harry still didn't quite know the answer to that. But he knew the answer to his part. "I went after him," Harry admitted, rocking back and forth on his chair idly. "Whatever else happened the fault was mine. I wanted him and I chased after him. Draco tried not to be interested in me-"

"But you wore him down because you couldn't get at him," Ron deduced grimly. "Competition. _Gods_, I sound like Hermione. Why did you Floo me here- do you want me to have a chat with Malfoy?"

Harry nearly laughed at how ill Ron looked at the thought. So not _all_ of the crime had been forgiven, then, because when Harry had first come back from New York, Ron and Draco had been able to converse socially for a bit without it being at all awkward. But that had also been when Draco had been with another man, and when Harry had not tried to steer Draco's broom into infidelity.

Harry sighed and rose, retrieving the note. Ron read it over twice and his face blanched, before he handed back to Harry.

"It's in a sort of code, isn't it?" Ron questioned, wearing the same expression he put on before a game of chess. "The way some of the words rhyme; the way it ends 'a old friend'. That should be 'an old friend'. Is this from some old lover of Malfoy's that's trying to get back at him or something?"

"No," Harry replied. As far as Harry knew Draco had gone from Parkinson to Bones and from Bones to himself. "Draco believes that it's from Avery. Avery lived in the Manor when- well, during the war. He propositioned Draco when he was a child, that's where the 'seventeen' bit comes in."

Ron turned green and looked back down at the letter again. "What's the tray? And what are the _desires_?"

Harry shook his head. "Draco wouldn't say- he felt unwell when we got back, he went to bed and had a lie-down."

Thankfully, Ron took that at face value. The last thing Harry wanted to do was divulge the fact that Draco had a therapist to his best mate- even though _he_ saw Ron as a confidant, he knew the likelihood of Draco ever seeing Ron as one was very slim indeed.

Ron lifted the parchment and held it to the light. Harry knew that Ron was looking for the embossment that some of the best parchment-makers put on their stationary. But Harry looked; there had been none. Still, it was best to let Ron check again. He let Ron go through the battery of tests- for owl droppings, for magical signatures, even for Muggle DNA. The paper came up with nothing at all. Harry sighed heavily; he hadn't expected Ron to find anything so quickly, but he had had a faint bit of hope.

"Well," Ron said briskly. "If Avery found Malfoy in Marbella; it's extremely likely that he'll find him here as well. The only thing we can do now is file a case at the Ministry and wait."

"I'm staying here," Harry said tightly. He wasn't going to allow Robards to assign Draco anyone else. Harry was going to take care of him because Harry loved him.

"Alright," Ron tilted his head. "If I'm to be staying here as well I've got to know two things- does Malfoy have a spare room? And do you know your silencing charms?"

Harry jelly-armed Ron.

* * *

><p>Harry padded into Draco's darkened bedroom, but when he entered the space he realized that Draco was awake and reading a novel. Or, at least, pretending to read. Draco wasn't so much reading the words as staring at the page; his black-and-white hair swooped in front of his face, concealing his expression from Harry's eyes. Harry sat down on the bed and pried the book away from Draco's hands gently. Draco smiled softly, something tender about his expression, but Harry didn't want Draco to have to pretend to be strong for him. Harry wanted to be the one protecting Draco; especially now that Harry realized truly how badly the war had affected his lover.<p>

"I've slept too much," Draco said, looking out at the setting sun. "Now I'll be confused in the morning, and it'll be a strange schedule for you to get used to when you get back to work."

Harry bit his lip- he wanted to shake Draco for pretending, and also kiss him for being so adorably obtuse.

"Ron's in your guest room," Harry said, pressing his palm with Draco's. His own fingers were stockier, but they were only a skin shade apart. Somehow Harry had imagined himself to be much tanner; and Draco much fairer. Harry turned Draco's palm over and pressed a kiss into it, closing up his fingers tightly.

"It's probably for the best," Draco said, and Harry raised an eyebrow, impressed. "It's true- there's nothing that can be done for it now, Harry."

Harry thought that himself, but hearing it out loud, and hearing it from your own threatened boyfriend were two entirely different things. Harry rose from the bed, removing his shirt, robes, and trousers, before climbing back into it. He didn't know what he would do if something happened to Draco. It wasn't fair that Draco was being threatened, now that he had only just got him, but that was the way of Harry's life- he never got to keep the things that he loved. He had lost his parents, his godfather, his mentor. Harry was lucky that he had his friends, and these few precious, stolen months with someone that he loved. Some wizards would have been grateful.

Draco rose from the bed and pulled off his shirt, and then tugged on Harry's arm. In the single-candle darkness he looked as though he was made of moonlight and opals, and pure magic, and Harry wanted to bottle him up and keep him close always, _always._ Harry pressed a kiss to his left temple, and then his right.

"You're brooding," Draco smiled softly, taking off his glasses. "I can hear the brooding from here, it makes a _swish, swish_ sound, it's the only time you think, you know."

"Nice, Malfoy," Harry said, slapping the outside of Draco's thigh. "How sweet you are."

"Hmm," Draco mused with a flash in his grey eyes. "Do that again; I may grow to like it."

Harry put that thought away for another time, it was most certainly something worth trying out. But tonight was about being gentle. Harry kissed Draco slowly, taking his time to pull out every moan and sigh as though they were precious and important. He took his time; relishing the way Draco's hair felt in his hands, soft and fine like silk, how the curve of his elbow knocked Harry's rib as they shifted positions; how Draco thumbed his earlobe idly as Harry pulled down his pants. Harry didn't know that it was possible to love the way someone _breathed_- but the way Draco exhaled made Harry aroused.

"If I could nap right here," Harry said, tracing Draco's trembling, soft inner thigh with his calloused fingers. "I'd be happy."

"You'd also be the victim of a shrinking charm," Draco gasped, bending his knees up and offering himself silently. "Hurry _up_, Potter."

"Yes sir," Harry whispered, pressing a kiss on Draco's length just to tease. "Right away, sir."

"I'd kill you," Draco hissed as Harry slid home. "But you're busy."

Harry closed his eyes and moved silently, rhythmically to an invented pace. Draco loved him, and they were together, now. The only harsh truth was that someone did, in fact want to kill them.

* * *

><p>It was awkward.<p>

Harry and Draco had _not_ used silencing charms the night before, nor the morning after. Ron looked at them both with great suspicion, but he had the decency to say very little to Draco about the whole affair. Everyone was living on pleasantries and eggshells. It was horrible- Harry didn't know what would happen first- if Ron and Draco would get into a row, or if Avery and Yaxley would show up, demanding their duel and their vengeance for the fall of the Dark Lord.

But Harry wanted his vengeance as well. This fight was for Bones. Harry hadn't cared for Bones, much, but he hadn't deserved to die. Bones had been a decent, upstanding fellow that Harry had double-crossed to get to Draco. The least Harry could do for Bones now would avenge his death and put away Bones' killers. And Draco; Harry knew that Draco probably still carried around guilt resulting from Bones' death. Perhaps this would help, a little.

Draco was standing, looking out a window. He did that often, now. Harry thought that he probably felt trapped. Harry could sympathize with that- his long summers at the Dursleys, his own oppressive childhood. He wanted nothing more than to wrap an arm about Draco's tense shoulders and talk to him. But Ron was here, on the other side of the room, staring at an ivory chessboard, playing himself. And Harry knew that Ron would hate to see affection between his best mate and his old adversary.

"I'm going to make tea," Harry said to no one at all.

"Make me a cuppa," Ron said, looking up from the board. "Two sugars."

Harry nodded, even though he had known how Ron took his tea as far back as third year. Harry went to the kitchen and boiled water with a flick of his wand; he decided to lay out a mug for Draco, even though he had said nothing at all.

After a bit, Harry returned to the spacious living area, _levitating_ the mugs in front of himself. He floated Ron's off to his friend, and walked off with Draco's and his own.

"Tea," Harry said, handing one to Draco. Oddly enough, he and Draco took their drink the same way.

"Thank you," Draco said distantly. "But not with two sugars, I hope?" Harry smiled- a Draco who could take the piss out of Ron's sweet tooth was not a hopeless Draco. "No," Harry smirked. "You git. You alright?"

"Tent fever, I suppose," Draco said, hooking his little finger with Harry's on the ledge. Harry smiled at that- it was less than Harry wanted to do, which was to pull Draco onto his lap while they listened to the wireless together; but it was better than nothing. And it was a sign that Draco wanted him, wanted them still. The enclosed space was starting to play tricks on Harry's mind.

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly, "When Ron goes to bed we can-"

Draco snorted, looking at Ron, who was watching them carefully, like a jealous girlfriend who expected to be ditched by her Quidditch star lover at the first sign of a better prospect. Harry rolled his eyes- it _was_ probably not a good idea to shag again while Ron was in the flat, but Harry needed at least a cuddle.

"I love you," Harry dared, whispering the words into Draco's hair. Draco beamed, his eyes dancing even as his lip curled with mock-disdain. Harry could tell he was debating on whether or not to answer vocally, or to give Harry the run-around.

"Potter," Draco began tenderly- "You know I-"

"_Oh_," a sneering, sarcastic voice drawled. "I _do_ hope I'm not interrupting something, or am I?"

Yaxley. Harry tensed, tightening his hold on Draco. Yaxley was wearing an Unspeakable's robes, and Harry stilled- had Yaxley infiltrated the Ministry? And for how long had he and Avery managed to keep up their rouse? Harry knew that Ministry employees were notoriously easy to dupe on their own or to polyjuice- Yaxley and Avery could have been holding some poor bloke or witch hostage for months; stealing his hair. But that begged the question; _why_? They had gotten away from Harry and the Aurors before, why come back? Why not just escape?

"Malfoy," Yaxley said, staring at Draco with disgust. He spat on Draco's new rug; on the spot where Teddy had pushed along his levitating trains. "Hiding behind Potter, are you? You always were a coward; if it wasn't Mummy and Daddy, it was Snape and your Aunty- little spineless cretin; I ought to-"

"_Shut_ it," Harry hissed, moving forward, blinded by rage. If he heard _one _more falsehood about Draco being a coward; whether it be in his face, or in the papers, or by the idle gossips in the Ministry, Harry would go mad. He would go murderously mad.

Harry flipped his wand out from his back pocket in one easy, careless motion, catching in his hand. He trained it on Yaxley, who was staring Ron down as though he was no more a duelist than a Muggle with a twig in his hands.

"Harry," Draco called. "Stop. It's _got_ to be a trap, somehow."

Harry turned around, but it was too late. Avery already his arm wrapped around Draco's neck, practically strangling him as he forced his head back against his shoulder. Harry didn't know how, but in an instant he was there, in front of Avery and Draco- either the rage apparated him to the other corner of the room, or Harry couldn't even recall taking the steps because of his anger.

"Let him go," Harry hissed, training his wand on Avery's forehead, right between his eyes. "_Now._"

Avery laughed. "No, I don't think so, not until I get what I came for. How about I propose a trade, Potter? Although I would be loathe to let Draco go; I'll return him for a certain _stone._"

Harry stilled. The Resurrection Stone. Avery and Yaxley were trying to find the Resurrection Stone. It was why Yaxley had impersonated an Unspeakable and why Avery had gone after Draco, not because of some old lust, although that seemed a part of it. Harry couldn't imagine what they wanted to do with the stone. But then again, the possibilities were endless, and gruesome.

"How did you get in here?" Harry asked.

"Blood wards," Avery smirked, threading a hand through Draco's hair. Harry was desperately stalling for time. "My great-grandmother was a Malfoy; vicious bitch, just like your little pet."

"I'm _not_ anyone's pet," Draco snarled, managing to elbow Avery's ribs with his left arm, and bite Avery's forearm.

It all took a spilt second, as Harry could hear the spells as Ron and Yaxley dueled, knocking over photographs and bookcases. Harry had so little time-

"_Diffindo_-"

"_Prote-_"

Harry felt water, water and waves rushing in. But when he lifted his hand from his stomach it was red, not clear. It was very strange, very very strange. Then it was black.


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: Hey guys- I hope that you all are enjoying this story, and thanks again for the reviews. If you want you can check out the other H/D story I am posting, it is very different from this one as it takes place during Hogwarts, and only from Harry's POV, and is much more romantic- let me know what you think!_

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><p>Chapter 25:<p>

Draco Malfoy was a monster.

He looked in the mirror and stared at his face dispassionately. He knew that there were many magical creatures that were gifted with attractive features in order to lure men to their deaths. Veelas. Vampires. Sirens. Demons. The Black family. Draco poked at his blemish-free cheek, watching it turn red around his nail, watching it react. He was lovely, he supposed. A lovely, vacant shell without a single, solitary emotion worth saving. Creamy, peach and white skin, unusual grey eyes, white hair, balanced nose and interesting sharp chin. A lovely, beautiful monster. Yet two wizards had risked their lives for him.

Draco _noxed_ the candles in the cheap, tiny bathroom of the St. Mungo's hospital room and went back over to Harry's bedside.

Harry's body was surrounded by an orb of light that reminded Draco of the time that he had seen aurora borealis in an projection charmed picture book that his parents had brought back from one of their holidays. Draco had sat up for days; staring at the red and greens, mesmerized by the light show, until the charms in the book had died out and only the one dimensional engraving of Antarctica had remained. It wasn't a positive recollection- to have Harry surrounded by the northern lights of a cold, distant land in of a picture book that his cold, distant father had once given him.

Draco took Harry's hand, warming him with his own. Harry was supposed to be warm, warm and _free._ That was what Harry had fought for- for all of them, and now he was lying in a hospital bed, adjacent to the Janus Thickey Ward because Draco had attracted the last of the Death Eaters into his life. Because Draco had attracted _Harry_ into his life. If only Draco had listened to his own instinct and let Harry alone, and lived his own quiet, dull little existence; if only he had learned his lesson about being selfish- if he had truly learned it Algernon would have been alive and Harry would be healthy and fine and everyone would be alright-

But Draco loved him. He loved Harry and he had gone after him, the first time he'd kissed him he'd _wanted _him. No, that was a lie, he would have to go back to the beginning. He had wanted Harry for his best mate as a child, and when that hadn't worked he had nursed a chip larger than his old vaults at Gringotts and it had led him down this path, everything had lead him down this path, and that was fate, if one believed in that sort of nonsense anyway-

But all Draco wanted was _Harry._

Now Draco was so desperately tired. He hadn't slept in three days, except in stops and starts, in case Harry woke up. The Healers said that it would take two more days to see any results from their procedures and the potions, but they didn't know Harry. Draco knew that he would be fine. He just did.

"Potter," Draco said, _accio_'ing over his hairbrush and beginning to brush out the little tangles in his hair just for something to do. "You're going to wake up and the first thing we're going to do is take Teddy out for ice cream. The poor child has been worried sick about his precious godfather. Next, we're going to get you a haircut, and then we're going to my flat and we're to-"

"Malfoy," Weasley said, looking as though he wasn't sure whether to get out his wand or get out another hairbrush and start helping Draco out. Draco scowled and put the hairbrush aside, even though he didn't unthread his fingers from Harry's. Harry had changed his emergency contacts from Weasley and Granger to Draco. Draco didn't know when Harry had done it but a part of him resented that Harry had without telling him- it felt too much like Algernon changing his will and that whole fiasco-in fact, the only good point to all this nonsense was that the Weasleys couldn't have him forcibly ejected from Harry's beside.

No, Draco smirked, a little maliciously. They all had to dance to Draco's tune for once, and Draco had always been terrible at sharing.

"Weasley," Draco said evenly. He wasn't sure if Harry could hear or not. When he had been under _stasis_ he had heard, once- but it could have been because his daft mediwitch had missed the top-up on his charm. Draco didn't know, but he resolved to keep Harry's beside peaceful, or as peaceful as he possibly could without having to give in to Mother Weasley's demands that she said to her son in Draco's hearing but _never_ addressed to Draco himself.

"Malfoy," Weasley looked lost. Draco sighed and pointed to a bag of _Expandable Armchairs_ on the high dresser that the late night mediwitch had left for Draco when he had seen the size of the family that came in and out of the bedroom. Weasley shrugged, embarrassed, and tapped his wand against one toy-sized chair, returning to the dimensions needed for a fully-grown adult's bottom.

"He looks well," Weasley tried, and Draco snorted, picking up the hairbrush again. That was a lie, and a stupid one. Harry didn't look _well_, and he didn't look like he was _resting_, or _comfortable_, either. Harry hated looking weak, and he hated being made the butt of a joke- Draco ought to know, he had made Harry the butt of enough jokes throughout the years. Harry also hated to rest; he loved working and planning and feeling apart of something. He was at his best at his job, or flying, or in bed. _Not _confined to a bed.

_Look what you did to him_, Draco said, forcing himself to stare at the scar tangling on Harry's neck, the one that snaked all the way down to his navel. _Look what you did to him, and to Algernon. No wonder your own mother can't stand the sight of you, Draco Malfoy- remember your father?_

"Malfoy," Weasley said hesitantly. He looked old in his red robes. Old and sick, too. Draco had no idea what Granger looked like; whenever she came in the room they both avoided each other's eyes- the accuser and the guilty party. "Malfoy why don't you go home for the night? Or to visit Mrs. Tonks and see Teddy?"

"_No_," Draco hissed, turning away. He couldn't stand to see Teddy crying again, his sad little baby curls turning as grey as an old man's beard. And he couldn't stand for Harry to wake up and be alone or with the Weasleys, and think that Draco had deserted him, when he _couldn't._ No, Draco had made precious few stands in his life, and that had been his mistake; but this would be one of them. The Weasleys couldn't be rid of him, and Harry wanted him, and Draco was staying. This time he knew what he wanted.

Weasley must have seen something in the set of his jaw that made him smile because one _did_ flirter across his face, even though it was only momentary. Draco scowled again; Weasley didn't leave, but he stand.

"I'm going to the canteen," Weasley said, stretching. "We're going to need something stronger than this piss-water tea on our vigil, Malfoy."

"_We_ are?" Draco repeated incredulously, but looked at Harry's face. His long, dark lashes stood out in stark relief to his colorless skin, like ink-less vellum. Draco wanted to kiss him back to life- he wanted to slap him, to do _anything_ that would wake Harry up and bring him back to the frustrating, amazing, wonderful person that he had known. Draco looked back up- Weasley was staring at him, and Draco didn't _like_ it. It was far too knowing a look.

"I'll bring you a coffee," Weasley said gruffly, as though he had been forced to adopt a rabid crup. "And a few biscuits or something- maybe even a whole tin; I don't know if anyone's ever bothered to tell you, Malfoy, but you're too thin by far."

"I'm _not_ thin," Draco said to Harry as soon as Weasley left.

"Was that some sort of Weasley ritual, attempting to fatten a bloke up?" Draco asked Harry, but of course he didn't answer. The hand holding the hairbrush trembled and all Draco could hear in his head was _it's your fault-it's your fault -it's your fault _on an endless, horrible loop.

* * *

><p>Aunt Andromeda forced Draco to Kent the next day. Draco had been showering in the communal staff showers at St. Mungo's; a young spot-scarred Healer had taken pity on him or Harry and had given Draco the ward code to their break room. But that wasn't enough for Aunt Andromeda- Draco needed to rest, he needed to wash his hair, he needed to eat the roast that Aunt Andromeda had left under heating charms in the small kitchen. Draco had finally relented under her merciless gaze and the Weasleys scornful, vicious glances that all spoke with their eyes of their thoughts; how they wished that it was Draco in that cot instead of Harry.<p>

But it didn't upset him not nearly half as much as it would have. He hated the Weasleys out of rote now but Draco knew in his heart of hearts that he _deserved_ to be in a hospital bed, and Harry deserved to be free of him. Draco was just too Slytherin to leave him alone.

Draco let himself into the cottage and threw down his keys with their sparkling _DA_. Every _time_ Harry saw the key ring he looked as though he was going to start a fight he didn't know he could finish, and Draco loathed that. He loathed the fact that he couldn't go there and have that argument, he loathed the fact that Harry could actually be a coward about that one _bloody_ thing, and he loathed the fact that now he clung to Algernon's old gifts when he should have been a better lover to him.

Without looking in the mirror, Draco turned the shower on high and stepped inside, practically boiling his skin off of his bones. It felt cleansing, and he felt as though he needed it, as though even down to the marrow of his bones something was wrong with him.

_Bones, Bones, Algernon Bones. _Draco's head chanted. _Who once had ten fingers and ten toes._

_Lithia_ water. Draco hadn't left the hospital in three bloody days, which meant that he hadn't taken his potion in just about that long. Draco grimaced; what he needed what his potions and a good night's sleep, but he doubted he could sleep now, and he couldn't apparate over to his flat in such a state without splinching himself and ending up in a worse state than this one.

Draco pushed open the door to his old bedroom and smiled. On the bed was a small vial of _Lithia_ water, as well as thick duvet that had been folded on edge of the bed. If Aunt Andromeda had been sending a clearer message she would have had to take out an advert in the Daily Prophet.

When Draco woke up from his slumber it was to an unnatural sensation- firstly, he realized that his neck ached from being twisted to one side. Secondly he realized that Weasley was sitting at the edge of his bed and staring at the ceiling.

"Do you know that that crack looks _just_ like Snape's nose from this angle?" Weasley said, stuffing a crisp into his mouth.

Draco had always thought that was a sign of his madness, but perhaps he was hallucinating Weasley as well- but if _that _was true he hoped he would end up in the Janus- _Harry. _Merlin, what was _wrong_ with him? Draco sat up and fumbled with his wand, trying to _accio_ his shoes out from under the bed.

"Calm down," Weasley said, alarmed by Draco's reaction. "Malfoy, seriously, calm yourself down, you're going to give yourself the Dolorious Dolorums."

"I've got to get back, Weasley," Draco said, exhaling. He was clean, vaguely refreshed, and luckily he had pocked his potions before Weasley had shown up at his aunt's cottage. "Why are you here- unless Harry has woken up?"

_That_ would be the utter worst- Harry waking up to a sea of red and no blond in sight.

"No," Weasley admitted, looking very put out. If Draco had any space left inside himself to feel miserable for anyone else but himself and Harry; he might have extended some pity for Harry's best mate. "Hermione sent me over here to rest, I almost fell asleep on one of the armchairs and it shrunk around me."

Draco smothered the ghost of a smirk and Weasley smiled tiredly. "Is this your bedroom?"

"Was," Draco shrugged, gesturing to the NEWTs award on the wall. It felt as though it belonged to another boy, who had belonged to another bloke. "I'm going to leave-you can sleep here, Weasley."

Weasley raised an incredulous eyebrow and then laid down on the bed slowly. "You should get something to eat before you go, Malfoy."

Draco closed the door, and took an apple off the kitchen table, just so Harry wouldn't be too upset.

Granger was in the hospital suite when Draco arrived, along with Nott's ginger bint. Draco felt as though all his hours of sleep bled away from him at the sight of them gossiping over Harry's prone body as though it was a Gryffindor Quidditch match and Harry was an issue of the _Quibbler._ Granger didn't even look up when Draco came in and Draco nearly laughed- how very civilized of her to ignore him, but she hadn't been able to ignore him when he had been riding Harry.

_The night that Algernon died,_ Draco's mind reminded him ruthlessly. Draco turned away from her and from Ginny Nott's curious, envious eyes. How could she be _jealous_ of him? How- when everyone in the Weasley family and the world now knew what Draco had done just to get Harry?

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," a bland, lime-green robed wizard smiled genially. "So good that you're back- we need you to sign off on some parchment scrolls."

Granger snorted and Draco made sure to smile brightly at the Healer, ushering him inside. He knew that he was being beyond petty but Granger reminded him of all his failings and as long as she did that he would never, _ever_ be able to forgive or even tolerate her.

"How's Harry doing?" Draco asked, watching Granger's bushy head and Nott's sleek coif bob up as if on a cue. _Aha_- they couldn't stand Draco, but he had them by the ends of their wands.

"Mr. Potter will be taken out of _stasis_ in the morning," the Healer smiled excitedly and Draco sneered; he could tell exactly what type this dolt was and he was simply _begging_ for an autograph and a photo when Harry woke up. _When_- Draco almost smiled; but then he remembered that he wasn't alone and forced it back down.

"The internal injuries have healed as far as they can under _stasis_," the Healer continued, paging through a scroll in his hand. "As for the rest, it's going to have to be a daily potion for a week along with a modified workout plan, and probably desk duty if he chooses to return to work- personally I'd like to see him on a holiday for as long as he's on the potion."

"Good luck with convincing him," Draco drawled, relieved and elated. Then he motioned to the scarring. "Can anything be done for that?"

"It's superficial, not magical, so it should fade with time. You must have had glass in your house, Mr. Malfoy. Although you can try Gregorian's Liniment if Mr. Potter would like to lighten those up before his natural healing time would have occurred."

"Yes," Draco thought, looking over the paperwork and signing his name over the standard release forms over and over again. He wondered if his Aunt Andromeda had felt this overwhelming sense of joy, love and accomplishment that he felt now when she had taken him from the hospital all those years ago. But then again, Aunty hadn't known at the time how close they would grow to be, and how much Draco would grow to care for her. But Harry knew how Draco felt about him.

Harry knew and Draco would have to find the way of making everything else right. The weight of it all felt impossible, but he had failed too many times before not to make a success now.


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: Hello everyone, I just want to say hi to everyone who just started following this story right now and have me on alert. Aww, thank you. I also wanted to specifically thank ilreies for giving me such an amazing review on the last chapter. It really meant a lot to me to hear your kind words. As usual, please review and let me know what you think._

_Enjoy!_

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><p>Chapter 26:<p>

Harry winced. It was very bright, and it was too loud. It sounded as though there was water rushing in, a loud _swish-swish-swish_.

Harry smiled to himself; perhaps Draco was right, and he actually made a sound when he brooded. Harry would have to save that one up to share with his boyfriend, if only to amuse Draco, because it most certainly wasn't true- Harry thought all the time; he thought about Teddy, and the Weasleys, and Ron and Hermione, and his work, but above all he thought about Draco. He had always thought about Draco, only now he couldn't help but think about him, because he loved and needed and respected him more than anyone except his best mates. Draco meant the whole world to him. Draco probably was his whole world.

"Draco," Harry said and then coughed roughly.

"Shh," someone said softly. "And you should probably close your eyes, if I remember correctly the lights are the worst part about waking up from _stasis._"

Harry thought that that person was an utter genius. He closed his eyes, relaxing back into his sheets. It didn't _feel_ like his bed- it felt like someone else's bed, like someone else's home. Maybe Harry was in a hotel again- had they left Marbella? Harry tried to remember, but he really _couldn't_; and that also didn't feel right.

"He should be awake by now," a female voice said, sharp and confrontational, and Harry squeezed the hand that he was holding. He knew somehow that he didn't want this witch attacking the man that had told him to shut his eyes. He wanted more than anything to tell her to shut it, but Harry was too bloody tired.

"Hermione," another man said tiredly. "_Please._"

"No," Hermione said. "_No._ I know I'm right now, and I'm right about what happened too-"

"Let's leave them alone," the second wizard said. "Just for a minute, then-"

Harry closed his eyes. He was so _tired_-

Harry was floating in space. It felt light, light and free; and yet he felt grounded; tethered by the invisible little rope that tied his hand to the one gripping his own. Harry smiled. It was Draco. It had to be Draco; Harry knew that much, he could tell just by the way the fingers felt gripping his own, how there was a little callous over the right ring finger where Draco rested his quill when graded his student's papers. Harry noticed that- he noticed all of that.

"Time to wake up," Draco drawled, tracing his jaw. Harry winced- his head _ached_ and he most certainly needed a shave. "Wake up, slumbering _Stasis-_head. Come along, then."

Harry opened one eye and grimaced. The lights were too bright and he felt as though he was on a stage or with awful photographers following him. Harry tried to pick up one arm, but it felt like jelly and it trembled awkwardly as he covered his eyes.

"Draco," Harry coughed. "Water?"

Draco conjured water with a sigh and cupped Harry's head; tilting the water from his wand into Harry's mouth.

"It's the potions," Draco said softly. "Some of them cause dry mouth and increased thirst."

"Oh," Harry said, shoving over so that Draco could lie beside him on the small cot. Even moving that much was like running a mile normally- Harry felt extremely winded; and extremely tired, as though all his bones had been grinded down with the mortar and pestle that Snape had forced them to use in Potion's classes.

"I should call over your mediwitch," Draco said, tracing the slope of Harry's nose with his fingers. He looked as though he was torn between _whooping_ with unrestrained joy, and pulling back with Slytherin-like reserve. Harry sighed heavily, staring at the tiles on the ceiling. He remembered the fight now, the duel with Avery, Ron falling under Yaxley; Draco biting Avery's arm toward the end. Draco had been like that that whole weekend; himself, yet not himself. Harry _hated_ how the stress and strain of the press and the case had burrowed yet another hole between them.

"Not yet," Harry pleaded hoarsely. "Will you tell me what happened- with Avery and Yaxley?"

Draco looked away from Harry and toward the wall. Harry immediately regretted asking Draco about the case; he could have waited to hear the information from Ron or one of his mates on the force, it was obvious that Draco would never feel comfortable speaking directly about some of the things that happened to him during the war. Harry felt upset and anger rise up in himself- he should have been a better Auror and not have allowed himself to be led by his emotions. Avery had sniffed that out about him in the first five minutes of being in Draco's flat and had used it against him. Harry had almost lost Draco because of it.

Harry had almost _lost_ Draco. Harry felt a curious mix of relief and guilt mingle through him, and begin to harden like a stone in the pit of his throat.

"The scars will fade," Draco said, pressing a kiss onto Harry's neck and like always Harry felt a tingle of arousal mixed in with his exhaustion. "The Healers said so. Avery and Yaxley had a trial and they've gone to- to Azkaban, I assume."

Harry didn't miss Draco's little slip of a stutter. Did Draco sometimes think of himself serving a sentence for the mistakes he had made as a child? Harry squeezed his fingers, wishing he had the energy to rise up from the bed and simply leave with him.

"I'll fetch the mediwitch or the Healer," Draco smiled, fixing Harry's hair back from his face with the ghost of a smile.

Harry relaxed back on the cot and closed his eyes, hoping that he could fall back to sleep for awhile without being scolded by Draco and the Healers, but then he heard the loud _whoop_ that Draco hadn't let out. It was Teddy; his hair was a bright teal-green and he looked as though he wanted nothing more than to leap on top of Harry and check his scars for himself, except for the fact that Mrs. Tonks was restraining him. Behind them stood Ron and Hermione, tired looking but not nearly as exhausted as Draco had seemed within the first sentence that he spoke. Harry felt sorry for them, but between cutting Draco out of his life or letting Ron and Hermione have their own; it seemed the better option to put Draco down as his emergency contact.

"Does it hurt?" Teddy asked, positioning himself in the space that Draco had vacated.

"No," Harry laughed. "It only looks like it does- but that will be going away, too- Draco says that the Healers said so."

Teddy looked put out by that fact, put out and relieved. Harry could hang himself by his own _incarcerous_ for what he had put Teddy through. It was bad enough that he had deserted Teddy for over a year to gallivant around the States trying to find Draco in every street corner; now he had risked himself and Teddy's cousin because of his own emotional baggage. Teddy had suffered enough; and Harry knew that Mrs. Tonks was glaring at him to remind him of that fact.

"We'd better leave Harry alone, Teddy," Mrs. Tonks said, tapping her wand on her leg in a warning. "Come along, we can visit him tomorrow."

"_Gran_," Teddy pleaded, but when he saw the wand he sighed and hopped off the cot, toddling away with a morose wave for Harry.

"He's so cute," Hermione grinned. "Sometimes he looks so much like Tonks and then at other times he looks like Professor Lupin."

Harry thought it best that he didn't add in all the times that Teddy got the _worst_ little malicious gleam in his eyes before doing a stunt on his broom and reminded Harry of Draco when they had been eleven or twelve. He could tell just by looking at Hermione that she and Draco had not come to a separate peace whilst he was under _stasis_, recuperating. Harry sighed- he wanted more than anything for his best mates and his boyfriend to get on, because if he had a say in it none of them would ever be going anywhere.

"How do you feel, mate?" Ron asked kindly, as though he could sense where Harry's mind was going. Good old Ron- and poor old Ron, always put in awful situations.

"Alright," Harry lied and then amended. "Tired, and sort of sore. What happened with Yaxley and Avery?"

"Azkaban," Ron said, looking very much like he'd like to spit on the lino flooring. "Life."

"Draco said as much," Harry said, and watched Hermione's face-_yes_, there it was, underneath all the polite expressionless expression. The disgust. Harry wondered why it wasn't there for himself; was it something that had to do with the war and what had happened at Malfoy Manor? Did it have to do with Hermione and Draco's old childhood enmity? Or was it a mixture of all the pieces of the puzzle, forming together to create a perfect storm? Harry didn't know- all he knew was that he wanted so very much for them all to try a little bloody more.

* * *

><p>Harry laid back on the bed, frustrated with himself. He wanted to walk around and do something, <em>anything.<em> Harry had been home for five days and he was bored out of his mind, entirely bored. It was frustrating having to rely on Draco for every little thing while the wound on his stomach knitted up and the potions that he took every day healed the last of his internal injuries. Harry sighed- he knew that he should be grateful that once again he had escaped with a lucky break. But he was _bored._

Harry looked at the books on the little rolling table in his room resentfully. Hermione had bought him all sorts of scrolls and tomes to read about Defense and Aurors and magical theory, but Harry had never been a literary worm like Hermione was; even at school he had often begged off, or begged for her help. Harry's only skill was action, or reaction, not research.

Draco came into the room, his hair swept in front of his face. Harry felt awful for Draco- he hadn't had a moment of peace since Harry had come into his guest bedroom and lined up his daily potions on the mantelpiece. Harry had thought that Draco would have complained, he often did without any reason, but when it came down to it Draco was actually a very good home mediwizard; kind and forgiving and patient. Harry didn't mention it to him, but it what had probably made him such an amazing teacher amongst all those children in the first place.

"How's your headache?" Draco said, picking up Harry's pants with a wrinkle of his nose and _banishing _them away. Harry sighed- he had liked that pair, but he loved Draco and didn't want a row.

"Better," Harry said. "Can I take a pain potion?"

"Not unless you want that wound to reopen," Draco said sympathetically, kissing Harry right on his scar. "Do you want the wireless on, or something?"

"Or something," Harry said, admiring the way that Harry's jumper sat _just_ the slightest bit baggier on Draco. He looked adorable and utterly shaggable. Harry cursed himself.

"Charming," Draco snorted and then he sat down.

"Your friends keep Flooing here and then dropping the line as soon as I answer," Draco said, his expression positively dripping disdain. "Well, everyone except Weasley."

Harry sighed. He knew that choosing to come and stay at Draco's to heal was a polarizing choice to say the very least, but it was his. He loved Draco and trusted him, and just because they had begun their relationship under a dark cloud didn't mean to Harry that it would continue under one. He knew that he and Draco would stand the test of time, and he was going to prove it to his friends and the people he saw as family. And if they couldn't accept it- well, Harry didn't know _what_ to think about that possibility. He just knew that he couldn't live without Draco. The alternative was that there was no alternative in this case. This went beyond love.

"You're getting along with Ron," Harry teased, trying to find a ray of light in an otherwise negative topic.

"Well," Draco huffed, trailing a finger along Harry's forearm as though to reassure him and to annoy him, "He's not _entirely_ useless, Potter, though I still stand by my statement that I could have shown you the right sort."

"Could _you_?" Harry grinned, propping himself up on the mountains of pillows that Draco had transfigured from everything and anything in his flat. "And what would you have shown me, Malfoy?"

"Hmm," Draco said, nuzzling Harry's earlobe with his nose. He leaned in and took a soft bite and Harry was as gone as the last box of Honeydukes on Valentine's. "A little of this and a little of that."

"Really," Harry muttered, no longer interested in the little game they were playing, but in the hand that was climbing up the inside of his thigh and cupping him lazily, wonderfully. "_Oh_, Draco, don't be such a bloody-"

The wards warped. Someone was on the Floo. Draco pushed back from Harry's body; his trousers were unbuttoned and he looked annoyed and pained.

"Tease," Harry finished his sentence lamely.

"I _could_ ignore it," Draco said slyly.

"Don't," Harry sighed. He knew that it was his friends and that Draco was once again trying to get out of chatting to them. Harry understood that Draco and the Weasleys were a lost cause but as long as he was there they were going to Floo at his flat. And moreover, Harry wanted his friends to at the very least be able to stand in the same room as each other without there being wands drawn and hexes fired. Harry sighed- what was he going to do on his birthdays and hols- act like the child of a divorced couple?

"Fine," Draco said curtly, narrowing his eyes until they looked like diamond slits. Harry groaned as Draco left- it was clear that Draco was over-stressed, but Harry wanted to see his mates as well.

Ron and Hermione made their way into Draco's guest bedroom before Draco did. Harry closed his eyes; he could just imagine Hermione pushing her way through Draco's flat, her face a painted-on pleasant expression while she made an inventory of everything he owned. Draco would be just as bad, sneering at her, his beautiful face a mask of annoyance and pride, twisted into the Black haughtiness.

"Harry," Hermione said brightly, even though she looked very uncomfortable as she sat down on Draco's favorite rocker. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," Harry smiled. "A bit bored, you know. I would have been walking now if it hadn't been due to those complications, but I suppose that they couldn't be helped."

"You got an extra week of hols," Ron said bracingly, patting Harry's arm. "Think of it that way. Then you've got Yule off and by the time you're back at work it will feel as though you've never left it."

Harry smiled; he hoped that he hadn't missed too much, and that Ron hadn't become too comfortable with Landry as his partner. He felt as though time was slipping away in this little enclosed space, as though he were away in the States again and everyone was moving on without him.

"Everyone is worried about you, Harry," Hermione said, looking at the pile of laundry in the corner of the room distastefully. Harry had the absurd notion to tell Hermione off even though she hadn't said a word. "I wish that you had stayed at Grimmauld Place so that we all could have-"

"_No_," Harry said firmly. He had gone down this road once at the hospital, and he wasn't going to revisit this alley again. It was Draco or _hades._

"Hermione," Ron said reasonably, patting her shoulder. "Harry's doing fine, love, can't you see that? He's got more pillows around him than an incubated dragon's egg."

Harry laughed and even Hermione forced out the ghost of a smile. But Harry could feel the pressure mounting between his friends and his relationship with Draco. And if he could feel it, bound to his bed, then Draco could most certainly feel it, out and about in the wizarding world. Harry knew that soon he was going to have to face it all and make that definitive stand about his feelings with Draco. He simply just didn't want his friends to dictate his timing, just like the tabloids had before.


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: Hi everyone! I can't believe this story is going to be done next chapter. There are so many things which need to be cleared up, clarified, and could be expanded, which is why I decided to make this into a two part-series, and the next story Art of Love will follow three years after this one. When I started writing this story I wrote it with the idea of following two people who are meant to be together but who can't manage to get it together. In Art of Love it's no longer the excuse of the war or of another person, but of Harry and Draco as people and what they want out of life, and how that could be keeping them from being happy together. _

_Yes it's an eventual happy ending. I can't seem to write H/D properly unhappy, though I always want to. Whatever, other writers do it better. Besides, there's enough tragedy in the real world._

_Oh, and thank you so much to potterbuncker for the review. I do put a lot of effort into my stories and I'm glad that it shows in a positive light. _

* * *

><p>Chapter 27:<p>

Draco watched Harry walk; slow, careful steps with the aid of the cane that his Healer had afforded him.

Draco looked away. _Two weeks_, the Healer had said. Two additional weeks of Harry having to walk around with the cane because Avery's curse had been linked to a blood-born pathogen that ate away at muscle tissue. The Healers said that Harry had escaped-luckily they said, because he had received the best care possible. Because he was famous. Draco had nearly burst out laughing at that- if Harry hadn't been famous none of this would have _ever_ happened to him. None of it. Perhaps Harry would have grown up an entitled little brat in Godric's Hollow with twenty brothers and sisters and sorted Slytherin and he and Draco would have fell in love at sixteen.

Those were the sort of thoughts that swam about in Draco's mind. The weak, horrible, lonely thoughts. _Why_ had it taken the gods all these years to put them together, if one believed in fate? Why hadn't they found each other at eleven or thirteen or sixteen or eighteen? Why didn't they keep mucking it all up now that they had each other? Draco didn't understand it- it was as if they couldn't let their own hearts be happy, as if they couldn't believe in love.

As though they didn't believe they deserved it.

Draco looked out into the inky night sky. It was cold out, and the fall air was calling toward winter. He knew that he didn't deserve his life- he had fallen into it, like a runes toss. It was a mistake, but he kept trying to live up to it; and he kept failing. Now he felt as though he didn't care- he'd lost his job, he'd lost his best mate, he lost his wealth and home, and he'd lost his relationship with his mother. The only thing that he had left was infamy in the press, his aunt and cousin, and Harry.

And Algernon- but Draco wasn't going to think about that today; he was so very tired. Perhaps tomorrow he would flagellate himself with the fact that he had basically murdered his ex-lover.

"You're very quiet," Harry said, coming up behind him. "Sickle for your thoughts?"

Draco shivered. "I wasn't thinking about much," he lied. "Winter's coming up; I haven't got a clue what to get Teddy this Yule."

Harry looked at Draco carefully. Draco sighed internally; he knew that Harry knew something was the matter, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Instead of reminding Harry of all the hoops that they had flown through to be together; Draco linked his arm underneath Harry's and took his cane away.

"I think that leaning on your dashing boyfriend is much more fashionable, Potter," Draco drawled and Harry beamed. Draco smiled even more brightly- Harry was so easy to please, so loving. Draco didn't deserve him either.

"Dashing are you?" Harry said, for once accepting the assistance in good humor. "I would have called you _pretty_, but never dashing."

Draco frowned, poking his side. "That's because you're blind. Come on, Harry- it's time for bed."

Harry went quietly and Draco turned on the wireless to the evening news before turning around to help Harry undress. Draco thought that he would have loathed helping anyone who was unwell do the most basic activities, but he actually loved doing it for Harry. There was something so tender in Harry needing him for a change, when Draco felt as though he utterly depended on Harry being in his life, not that he would tell him that outright.

"Up," Draco said, pulling Harry's vest off by hand and not using his wand. It was better that way; more intimate. For a brief moment Draco recalled being ill as a child and having a house elf and a mediwitch hired to look after him. His mother would have probably died to see him now on hand and foot tiding up after Harry Potter.

"What's funny?" Harry laughed as Draco handed him his potions- Harry made a face as though to say _I can do that myself_ but Draco merely clucked and measured it out himself; he knew how miserable Harry was in Potions class.

"I just remembered being little," Draco said, undressing with a wave of his wand and climbing into bed beside Harry. "I was ill once and it was all very distant. Aunt Andromeda was a very good mediwitch when I came to live with her; she stayed with me until I was well. I never had that sort of understanding before."

Harry smiled, wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulder. Harry felt warm, but not overly hot and Draco thanked the gods- the last thing he wanted was Harry to have a fever and be ill in the hospital during Yule.

"I love you," Harry said, a yawn nearly cracking his jaw. "I think you're brilliant, Draco Malfoy."

Draco stilled for a moment before replying. "I love you," Draco murmured to Harry's sleeping face. "I _love_ you."

* * *

><p>"Does Potter know that you're here, then?" Chang asked as Draco lit up a fag.<p>

Draco looked at her levelly and let her figure it out- she was meant to have been a Ravenclaw, anyway. Harry was off with his mates for his final Healer's appointment. Draco didn't know if he was annoyed or relieved that Harry had gone with his precious Granger and Weasley- annoyed because he felt as though it highlighted their pecking order or relieved because it was the first time in a month that Draco had a moment to himself without the interference of the Weasleys at his flat.

Not that he _was_ at his flat, anyway. Draco looked about Chang's new apartment; it was pretty, he supposed, done up in girlish wallpapers that reminded him of the notepads that Pansy had obsessively collected during fifth year. Draco smiled to himself; he missed Pansy almost everyday. And Susan, too. Draco felt as though he was forever auditioning and forever losing good friends. He supposed he spoke volumes about the type of person that he was for that all to keep happening about him.

"You're smoking again," Chang said, toddling in on her heels and handing Draco a large glass of wine to the filled to the brim. Draco wrinkled his nose, but took an obliging sip; between becoming a nicotine fiend or a wino, he was rather enjoying the cigarettes.

"Yes," Draco said, twirling the lit fag between his fingers a little dangerously. He had started to have something to lord over the Weasley's head and to have yet another way to be rebellious, but it was rapidly becoming yet another secret that he had to hide from Harry. Draco felt common and low when he thought of it like that.

"It suits you," Chang smiled, taking a large gulp of her wine. "I wasn't ever one for looking good while I was blowing anything, but I'm sure you make all it look stylish."

"Always," Draco grinned tiredly, picking up the double-entendre and playing right into Chang's hands like she wanted. Draco lifted his wine glass and clinked it against Chang's- he supposed that if he was sneaking around meeting Chang for sympathy chats and cigarettes behind Harry's back then the least he could do was play the part properly. No one wanted to be around a morose man who was meant to have everything.

"Alright," Chang said briskly, smoothing out her sleek robes. "What's going on, then? You're wearing last season's _Impala_ and looking as though someone had taken your hair potion kit away from you."

Actually Draco was wearing last season's _San Bartolo; _but he supposed that the message was all the same. "Nothing," he shrugged. "I'm just tired."

Chang looked at Draco slowly, carefully and then nodded. Draco wondered what she was thinking. Chang had been at the fringes of everything, since the beginning- she had seen Draco with Algernon, with Harry, in school as a smart-mouthed little bully. It was impossible to know what exactly she saw in him, excepting that elusive demon of celebrity. Draco nearly laughed- all his life had wanted to be well known and well liked by all the important people in his year at school, and now that he could have it he despised it. Life was so utterly wrong.

"Harry is getting better," Chang smiled brightly. "Soon you'll be celebrating Yule and he'll be back to work and we can go shopping on my lunch breaks at Twilfit's for new robes and fascinators. Speaking of dressing up and Yule- what are you going to be wearing to the Weasley's this year?"

Draco stilled, the wine half-way toward his mouth. He had _no_ intention of going to the Weasley's hovel, the Burrow. And he thought that Harry understood that.

"I'm not going," Draco said, a little more sharply than Chang deserved. The wine and the paranoia were getting to him.

Chang raised a neatly penciled-in eyebrow. "I thought that you would be. Everyone knows how close Harry is to Ron and Hermione; it just seemed natural that he would ask you to spend the hols with them. Unless you're going to be spending them with your cousin and Aunt . . ."

Draco stared at the ruby-red liquid, wishing that they were tea leaves in which he could read his fortunes from. Chang seemed to believe that his relationship with Harry was contingent on the fact that he was embraced by the Weasleys; and the Weasleys had pretty much managed to ward Draco into a corner the whole time that Harry had been ill, whether it had been at the hospital, his flat, or even Weasley at his aunt's cottage. Not that Draco resented Weasley anymore- it was just that it wasn't going to work. There was too much bad blood between their families to ever make it possible for their to be any type of rapprochement.

"Well," Chang smiled, refilling their glasses, and Draco realized that he was going to have to Floo home. "Tell me all about the Healers- there _had_ to have been one wizard that looked good in lime green, and don't give me that excuse that you were too tired to notice, Malfoy."

* * *

><p>Draco tilted the bottle of <em>Once in A . . <em>upside down and then removed the stopper. Apparently the results would last for as long as he liked, or until he spoke the incantation to bleed out the potion. Blue hair. Well, it worked for Teddy.

Draco parted his hair and got to work, putting the wireless on to something loud and fierce sounding. He desperately wanted a fag but he was afraid that his whole apartment would go up like the Room of Requirement if he was to try and smoke one with the potion and all the ingredients going. Draco sighed- he knew that the only reason he was mucking about on his hair the day before Yule was because Harry wanted him to go to the Burrow. He hated to admit it, but Chang was right; bloody stupid Ravenclaw. He owed her a new pair of shoes from Martelli's. Blast.

Draco parted another piece of hair and dipped it into the solution. The whole concoction smelled like the stables in the Manor had used to; but he supposed that was what it should smell like. And if it was wrong he could always buy a regrowth potion the day after Yule and use it as a excuse to skip dinner at the Weasley's. Draco wanted nothing more than to fall on a leg or to catch a case of Spattergroit from one of his ex-students. But he didn't want to disappoint Harry either; and Harry had looked like such an over eager puppy asking him.

Draco set a ward around his hair and went out to find the cigarettes. He had begun to hide them from Harry in the guest room of the flat, underneath the spare bathroom's sink. Draco forced down a morsel of guilt- he _would_ tell Harry, but not today. He might even stop smoking once the hols were over and everything was done.

As Draco left the bathroom, he realized that the gas lamp in the guest bedroom was on- Draco hadn't remembered being in there, but Harry might have been in to get some of his old things earlier in the day.

Draco walked into the room and smiled. Harry had been using his blanket. Draco folded it, carefully, so that it didn't touch his head and the ward. He felt so stupid now- for the potion, for making such a fuss about ignoring the Weasley's snide comments for one night. About being such a bloody bother sometimes. Harry was so honestly good to him.

Draco pressed the blanket onto the bed and moved to the desk, preparing to _nox_ out the light when he realized that one of the desk drawers was wedged. Draco stilled- he had no idea what was in the drawer, he had unpacked rather quickly and then the case and Harry's recuperation had taken up all his time.

"_Alohomora,_" Draco tried, and then when the drawer didn't budge he rolled his eyes and shouted. "_Bombarda!_"

It was just a pile of papers. Papers and nonsense; nothing that would have made a drawer stick. Before he _reparo_'d the drawer, however, Draco leaned a bit underneath the desk and felt the space. There was something there.

It was a little gold chain, and suspended on it was a pocket watch. Draco stilled- it was his grandfather Black's pocket watch; the case badly dented from the move. Draco sighed; Mother had always said that he was too much of a child to be trusted with their family heirlooms and now more than ever Draco was feeling the brunt of all of it. Still, Draco wanted to fix it up one day- for Teddy and his children, if no one else.

Draco opened the watch and gasped. He had forgotten about last Yule. Algernon and Draco had gone out skating on the lake in Landsdowne, the Bones estate, and Algernon had said he had hidden a photograph away for Draco to find. Draco never had- they had gone up to bed; not to sleep, things had been good then. They had shagged and Draco had forgotten all about the photograph and all about their little game.

Until now.

Around and around on an endless loop Algernon and Teddy spun around, breathless with laughter, one confident on the ice and the other just excited to be let out there. Draco squeezed his palm, feeling the nip of the chain as it cut across his skin. _One _year- could it have already have been one year? Draco struggled to think, to calculate the days and the weeks and the months.

How could it have been only one year, and Draco not remember that Algernon had a bit of a habit of rolling his eyes when he laughed? How could he forget that he had been so good with Teddy? How _could_ he?

"Hey," Harry said and Draco jumped about six feet in the air, clutching the chain behind his back and balling up the pocket watch. "I've been calling you for at least ten minutes through the Floo but I can see why- you're blasting through your belongings and dyeing your hair again, aren't you?"

Draco heard the note of censure, he just chose to ignore it. Also, he couldn't play the righteous victim when he was clutching a picture of his ex. "I couldn't get the bloody drawer open," Draco said, "Also the dye isn't permanent, it's just for fun- and I should be washing it out right now."

"I _could_ join you," Harry grinned jauntily and Draco almost shouted no again. Then he recalled how Harry had been walking with a stick up until a few days ago, and how that had been Draco's fault. He smiled instead.

"Just give me a minute," Draco said, motioning to the mess. "Why don't you get the shower started?"

Harry beamed and left the room, leaving Draco surrounded with the pile of splinters and rubble that he had created. Draco stared at the closed pocket watch in his hand and stuffed it in between the folds of the spare mattresses with a loud sound. Draco winced- he could only hope that Harry was in the shower and had missed out on hearing that noise.

On the way toward the kitchen Draco paused toward the kitchen sink and stared at his hair- it was most certainly a teal color. He rolled his eyes; the fact that he was using a dye as a confidence booster to face the Weasleys was worse than wearing an invisibility cloak to face a litter of kneazle kittens. Draco frowned at his own reflection in the spout of the kitchen sink- he needed to get back some of his arrogance from his childhood, not rely on some of the whims that he had discovered in Aunt Andromeda's cupboards in Kent.

With a sigh, Draco undid the ward around his head and spoke the incantation; bleeding out all the blue dye until in wrapped around his wand like a slimy gelatinous mass. Draco huffed once and flicked it off of his wand, and into the sink.

With a smile to himself he made his way toward the master bathroom. Harry was already in the tub, singing Meteor Shower to himself as he soaped his back. Draco smiled; it seemed that Teddy was forever influencing the two of them instead of the other way around.

"So," Harry smiled, looking relieved. Draco wished that he thought of wetting his wand so that he could hex Harry right now. "So, no blue hair?"

"No," Draco smiled, deliberately moving into all the warm spray and shutting Harry out. "I wanted a change, but that wasn't the one, unfortunately."

Harry looked pensive for a moment, and then he cupped Draco's chin, pressing a slow, yet chaste kiss onto his closed mouth. Draco closed his eyes but when he opened them Harry was looking at him still, as though he hadn't quite puzzled out the problem.

"We don't have to go to the Burrow for dinner," Harry said, a little _too_ lightly as he reached around for the shampoo for Draco's hair. "We could have our own little dinner at Grimmauld Place, just me and you."

Draco wanted to say yes to that, more than anything. His best meals had been private ones. When he had been a child, it had been just himself and his mother and father, no guests. Then at the cottage, before everyone; it had been Teddy, Aunty and Draco, in paper hats listening to the wireless. Only before and after had his life become so abominably complicated.

But that wasn't what Harry wanted. Not really.

"No," Draco said, forcing a smile even though Harry couldn't see his face under the spray. He thought it was good practice for the rest of the hols. _For the rest of your life,_ a little voice shouted. "No, we can go."

"You're the most wonderful boyfriend alive," Harry praised, kissing his wet forehead. Draco tried to find a part of himself that was eager or excited- but if he had a part it had dwindled away under so many lies.


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: The last chapter everyone, wow! I want to thank satin-skies for reviewing and saying I'm talented, that is so so sweet. I also want to address Talis Ruadair's review because it was so amazing, and because you really understood the story. It will hard for Harry and Draco to have any type of communication that is open, or honest, and it takes a lot time for it to happen. Both characters really need to grow as people for it to ever take place, and the next time we see them one character is completely open to doing this work while the other is totally resistant to any type of change._

_To everyone else- thanks so very much for sticking with me through part one of this journey, and I hope I'll see you around for part two!_

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><p>Chapter 28:<p>

_Have a blessed Yule-_ a smooth crooning voice on the wireless sang;

_And may the gods be with you;_

_Even if we don't last another year,_

_Remember than I held you first, my dear._

Draco came into the room and changed the wireless to another station, his eyes a bit fierce and wild. Without pausing to look at Harry he stalked out of the room, taking another drink off the tray with him. Harry sighed- he hadn't been truly paying attention to the lyrics of the old standard, but now that he put a mind to them he could see why Draco could get upset. Harry sank down into the sofa, staring at the period drama on the telly that had been muted in favor of the wireless. Teddy had gone upstairs; presumably to play with his new toys or to chase after Draco, or both.

Harry hoped that Teddy could cheer Draco up. It seemed the closer they got to the holiday season, the more that anything Harry said seemed to put Draco on edge. Harry sighed- he knew that Draco had a lot of buried Inferi in his graveyard, just waiting to rear their head at the slightest provocation. And the way that Bones had died had made things so ugly for the both of them. There was no true way to make peace with the dead except time, and Harry worried every day that time wouldn't be on their side. It hadn't been any other way before.

Harry still remembered that Boxing Day when he had felt so out of place, Bones and Draco dressed up in each other clothes, still hung over from a night of parties. Harry sighed- Draco had given all of that up for him. Draco had had a full life before; a partner who loved him, good friends, good press, and a great job. What did Harry bring to him except the destruction of all of those things? Draco had been fired, the tabloids were merciless, and even though Draco tried to hide it Harry knew that he and Susan Bones were no longer on speaking terms.

At times like this Harry wondered what would have happened if Bones had lived. Would Draco have been convinced by his coworkers and his friends to stay with Bones? Or would Draco have made a rather-unlikely Gryffindorish stand?

Harry smacked himself, rising and getting one of the festive red drinks that Draco and Mrs. Tonks had made, whispering together in the kitchen. Draco had been on the verge of leaving Bones. And he had said that he loved Harry that night.

_The same night that he said he didn't want your love_, Harry's mind mocked him. Harry sighed, taking a sip of the drink. It was sweet and it tasted of peppermint. He was going to need another ten before they left for the Burrow.

After a while Draco came down the stairs, Teddy right alongside him. Harry smiled- they looked more like brothers than cousins, especially since Teddy had subtly morphed his features to look a bit more like Draco's around the mouth and chin. Harry wondered if Teddy even realized that he was doing it or if he simply picked it up like a cue like children picked up their parent's mannerisms.

"I want some of the biscuits," Teddy said gaily, skipping out from underneath Draco's arm and heading for the kitchen. "Gran said that she was going to let me ice the sugar ones if I was good."

"But you weren't," Draco teased, relaxing down on the sofa next to Harry.

Teddy bit down on his lip, torn between heading for the kitchen and intimidating his older cousin. Finally, he smirked. "Harry," he smiled winningly. "Can't you tell Gran that I've been good all this time?"

"Slytherin," Draco said approvingly. "Your gran's going to find out about the mess upstairs sooner or later."

"But I'll have done all the biscuits, then," Teddy whispered, rushing away toward the kitchen.

"He'll sort Gryffindor, if I have any say in it," Harry said mock-seriously, patting his lap so that Draco relaxed down into it.

"Hmm," Draco said, with a shrug. "He likes racing his broom and pranking the less fortunate. We'll see where he ends up, Potter."

Harry laughed, threading his hands through Draco's baby-fine hair; twisting one piece about another. The wireless played yet another bluesy Yule melody in the background and Harry had the absurd notion to stay exactly where he was. He knew that he was just as welcome in Mrs. Tonk's cottage as he was at the Burrow, and he was so happy here. And Draco was comfortable here- they could help Teddy set up his little potions kit, and eat his biscuits, or go flying in the snow over the village. Harry smiled to himself- that all sounded just like what a wizarding family would do just before dinner on a cold Yule's night.

But Harry had already promised the Weasleys that he would come. Harry sighed, looking down at Draco's perfect face; relaxed into an expression of bliss. Harry wanted nothing more than to make Draco happy this Yule. But he also wanted to keep his good friends from feeling any more hurt than they already did.

"Draco," Harry said, and Draco opened his eyes. Immediately Harry could tell that there was a wall up and Harry hated it- he wanted this day to be over with as soon as possible and with as few curses tosses out as well.

"Draco," Harry repeated, just because he wanted to say his name. Harry trailed his thumb down Draco's bottom lip; it was so soft and plush, and there was the smallest silvery scar on the right corner. Harry wondered if it was a childhood injury, because he had never seen Draco hurt there at Hogwarts.

"We have to go soon," Draco said briskly, stealing the words from Harry's mouth. He sat up quickly and brushed his hands over his black trousers, flicking off invisible bits of lint. Harry couldn't see his eyes.

"Alright," Harry said, not sure what else to say as Draco cut him out. "Alright."

* * *

><p>"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cried loudly. "Let me look at you!"<p>

Harry grinned, allowing her to pull him into a large hug. The Burrow was decorated with haphazard crafts that Victoire, Dominique, Molly and the rest had made in school, with crayon Santas and pagan gods winking in and out of sight amongst firs and tables a'plenty. In the corner of the sitting room stood the tree; bright and merry and decked with candles and popcorn tinsel along with Prewitt ornaments which looked to be priceless and as delicate as a fairy's wing. Harry smiled at how lovely the house looked- even the Wellies that usually decorated the steps had been put away and replaced with gold beads around the banister.

"How do you feel?" Mrs. Weasley asked, guiding Harry into the kitchen.

"I'm alright," Harry smiled. "I just had a bit of trouble, but you know me- I always manage to bounce back from everything."

"Merlin preserve us," Mrs. Weasley said, looking grave. "I do wish that you and Ron wouldn't find yourselves in those types of situations anymore! Weren't there any more senior Aurors on the case? I know, I know- you're going to tell me for some reason it _had_ to be you lot. It always has to, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so," Harry said, beginning to feel as though he should get back to the sitting room. He had left Draco alone in a room that contained George, Bill and Ron and Harry wasn't sure what would be the end product of that type of Arthimancy.

"Would you care for some mullied wine?" Mrs. Weasley smiled, her cheeks red. "Hermione and Ginny made it; I think that it might be a bit more wine than mullied but tis the season, my lad."

"No, thank you," Harry said, inclining his head toward the punch. He had had enough alcohol at Mrs. Tonks' and he didn't need any more encouragement to do something stupid in case there was an argument. "I'll just take some and go."

"_Right_," Mrs. Weasley said, her mouth becoming a firm, hard line as she watched Harry fill two glasses with punch. "Well, enjoy it, Harry dear."

Harry walked back into the sitting room and exhaled with relief. Ron was at one end of the room, setting up a game of Gobstones for Roxanne and Molly to try out; while Hermione was reading to Dominique and Victoire, who looked as though she was pretending to be to old to listen, but was secretly listening in. George looked as though he was waiting for the right moment to pounce, but he was being held in check by a conversation with Percy, and Charlie and Fleur were too busy reading through directions for a set of fighting warriors for Fred.

On the sofa Ginny sat reading _Witch Weekly_. Harry sat down beside her, as Nott chatted to Draco about 'the numbers'. Draco looked horribly bored- Harry would save him, but he didn't know how to interject politely and he also knew that Draco didn't want to have a conversation with any of his friends.

"Harry," Ginny finally said as though she hadn't seen Harry all evening. Harry wanted to laugh; she had probably noticed him first and had been determined to snub him. "How are you; I heard you were still unwell?"

Draco stiffened slightly, Harry could tell that he was paying attention now. Harry hoped that he was as amused as Harry felt- Harry was no longer attracted to Ginny Nott. Who could be attracted to a Ginny Nott when they had a Draco Malfoy?

"I feel great," Harry said, a trifle loudly. "Draco was a wonderful mediwizard."

Across the room, George snorted in disbelief and Fleur's fingers slipped on the fighting warrior that she was setting up on the board. Harry winced; he had forgotten how many people had been touched irrevocably by the unfortunate choices that Draco had been forced to make during the war. Harry looked back to Draco- Nott looked as though he was faltering in polite conversation, and Draco was sporting two soft pink spots on his cheeks.

Harry sighed. Maybe this had been the wrong idea in the first place. Their relationship was so young; so new. They had so much to work through and they should have been doing it privately, not exposing it to their family and friends already.

"I was telling Draco about the import and export business," Nott offered lamely and his wife rolled her eyes, throwing down her magazine and leaving the sofa. Harry looked at her in disbelief- he didn't know who he felt sorrier for; Nott because his wife was cruel, or Ginny because her husband was a bore.

"Er," Harry said, struggling for a response. "What do you import?"

"Potions bottles," Nott smiled eagerly. "Size 36-F. And we import 47-C. 47-C is the most widely used potion bottle in the European Sector."

"Fascinating," Draco said dryly. "Is that drink for me, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said, passing the drink to Draco. He wished that it had liquor in it all of a sudden, damning the consequences.

"Thank you," Draco said mildly, swallowing the punch in one go. "Now, if you two will excuse me."

Harry looked at Draco blankly. "Where are you going?"

"Away," Draco said with a bright empty smile; but when he saw Harry's concern he added. "Just to the loo, Harry. Where is it, anyway?"

"Upstairs," Harry murmured tiredly. He could feel Draco's upset and the Weasleys' disapproval like a thick blanket. "Second door on the left."

Draco walked so quickly it was as though he apparated. Harry sighed. He thought it was a good idea, but it wasn't. Draco was uncomfortable having his failings broadcast to him on what was meant to be a family holiday; and the Weasleys were unhappy that Harry was bringing them the personification of all that had gone wrong for them during the war. Harry had thought that he could bridge the gap between them just by loving Draco but that was impossible. Too much had gone wrong, and too much had gone unsaid. Draco and the Weasleys were a separate issue from Draco and Harry's problems.

Harry looked up. Ron was standing over him, holding out a glass of firewhiskey.

"How's it going so far?" Ron asked, sitting down in Draco's emptied seat.

"A bit miserable," Harry admitted, swallowing a mouthful of the stinging liquor. "How does it feel being around all the nieces and nephews? Making you ready to be a family man yet?"

Ron blanched. "Merlin, no. I just started walking with Hermione and the relationship bit, don't ask me to apparate yet. What about you and Malfoy- how is everything going with you two?"

Harry stared at Ron. Sometimes he got the feeling that Ron was alright with Draco, not that Ron would ever admit it. "It's hard," Harry admitted. "Some days are like the best days of my life. Other days I think that I don't know what I'm doing and I'm going to go mad figuring this all out."

Ron clapped Harry's back. "Welcome to relationships."

Harry smiled. Then he stilled. It had been a _long_ while since Draco had gone to the loo. A very long while. Harry stood up quickly. Something had gone wrong. Had George done something to the toilet? Had Draco fallen ill or gotten into a row, or felt unwell mentally from all the stress? A thousand different, awful scenarios presented themselves and Harry truly did _not_ want to see any of them occurring. It was honestly bad enough that everyone seemed so uncomfortable in each other's presence.

Not a moment passed before Fleur came rushing down the stairs, her golden hair unpinned and two bright red splotches on her face. She looked as though she had been crying or running. Harry couldn't imagine that- Fleur was heavily pregnant with her third child and she would never do anything so undignified.

"Zat Malfoy," Fleur hissed to Bill, and then she said several things in French that Harry knew were offensive by their very tone. Harry could feel his hackles rise. "'e is nothing more zhana-"

"Then a what?" Harry asked calmly. It seemed as though the room had no air, and Harry was an interloper. Harry took a breath and willed away all his anger- he didn't want to argue with his friends, but he didn't want them to speak badly about his lover, either.

"Nothing," Fleur said simply, her eyes cool and dismissive. "I am sure zat you know all about 'im."

Harry looked around the room. Hermione rose quickly, leaving behind the book and the children and rushed to Harry's side.

"Please, Harry," Hermione said, tugging his jumper's sleeve. "It's Yule- let's not fight with each other. Come, sit down and we'll have dinner and everything can work itself out later."

Harry looked around the room. Draco wasn't here. He could sit and pretend that nothing had happened and most certainly lose his lover tomorrow or he could go after Draco and try to find out what happened and make sense of it all. Harry looked around at all his friends. He loved them and cared about them so much, but coming here today had been such a mistake- he needed to figure out what was going to happen with his relationship with Draco, not adding additional pressure to it by introducing Draco to his contentious mates in one go.

"I've got to go after him," Harry said, touching Hermione's sleeve. "Can you tell Mrs. Weasley to save some of the treacle tart for me?"

"You don't have to go after him," Hermione countered, her lip curling up just the slightest bit. "But you will anyway. Will we see you tomorrow? Mrs. Weasley's going to take photographs for her new album."

"Of course," Harry smiled, feeling that even when he compromised he was letting everyone down.

* * *

><p>Draco was at home. Harry felt like a bit of an idiot. He had gone everywhere else first. Harry had gone to the ruins of Malfoy Manor; to the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts; he had even gone to the crypt at Landsdowne on the off chance that Draco had gone there to pay his respects to Bones. Harry had felt like a monster visiting the place where Bones had his final resting spot, but he had to find Draco. Bones would have understood that; Harry hoped. In spite of everything else, Harry and Bones had had that much in common. They had loved Draco with all of their hearts.<p>

Harry walked into Draco's apartment and paused. Draco was sitting in his pants, wearing nothing else. He looked absolutely beautiful- fey, pale, otherworldly; like he had been made by the gods to torment Harry and send him to the heights of bliss and then the pits of despair. Draco tended to have that affect on people.

And then Draco was sitting, smoking a fag, a bottle of Ogden's between his legs. Harry looked at him, unsure if he should be upset or aroused. As Harry watched, Draco lifted the cigarette to his mouth lazily, with the uncaring grace of the inebriated. The fag glowed for a brief moment as Draco inhaled; his lips soft and wet and pursed around the stick. Then he blew out the smoke in a low, slow exhale; his moonstone eyes closed as though he was entirely tired with the whole proceedings. Harry felt his whole body stir and take notice.

Draco turned his head and looked at Harry, resting the fag on the edge of his end table. Harry had the bizarre urge to warn him about fires before he remembered that they were wizards.

"I didn't know you smoked," Harry said, coming to sit on the sofa beside Draco. "Is this something new, or did you keep it a secret?"

Draco tilted his head, and it lolled on his neck slightly. Harry thought that he was most definitely drunker than he was letting on. "I lied," Draco shrugged, looking sad and vulnerable and gorgeous. "Do you still love me?"

"Yes," Harry murmured, slipping a finger underneath his pants. "Of course I do."

Draco nodded, as though he was satisfied, taking a long sip of the Odgen's. Harry took the bottle from Draco and took a sip, and his eyes watered. He set the bottle on the floor and then pulled his jumper off over his head and then took his wand out of his jeans and removed his sneakers and socks and set them in the corner of the room.

Draco pushed Harry onto the sofa with a devious little smirk, his eyes flashing with a myriad of emotions ranging from hurt to arousal to control. Harry shivered; tipsy with the drinks that he had had at the Burrow and at Kent and now here at Draco's flat. He wanted to get to the bottom of what had set Draco off so terribly at the Weasleys, but he couldn't- it was as though he was being purposely tormented by his own desire for Draco. Or as though Draco was purposely leading him down another path; keeping him from seeing how truly vulnerable he felt after that whole fiasco before dinner.

"Draco," Harry mumbled, trying to focus as Draco knelt down in front of him and undid his zipper. "Draco, I-"

"Shh," Draco said, not lifting his head. The crackling log in the fireplace made patterns in his light hair and Harry felt dizzy with intoxication from his own desire, not from the liquor. Harry forgot all about what he was going to say- obviously it was less important that standing up and getting out of his pants and then sitting back down. _That_, clearly, was the most essential thing to be done this evening.

Draco spread his legs open widely and pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the hot space of his inner thigh. Harry moaned- _oh_, this was what he was on about, and it was clear that Draco was an utter genius and Harry was a fool and an idiot and a git and if Draco grazed his teeth along Harry's skin just _once_ more Harry would-

Draco lifted his head and smiled, with just the faintest bit of softness about his dove grey eyes before taking Harry into his mouth. Harry positively moaned, his head falling back onto his neck, giving him a few of the spinning upside-down kitchen for just the briefest moment. Harry closed his eyes on another gasp as his leg trembled out in front of him. Draco's mouth was so soft and warm and decadently sweet and Harry was moving toward, toward-

"_Fuck,_" Harry cried out, nearly knocking over Draco's gas lamp. He could feel Draco laughing about him, the bastard, the reverberations tingling up his spine like tiny beads of pure pleasure.

Harry slid a hand into Draco's hair and down his chin, feeling his mouth moving as he worked. The fire still played it's games across Draco's hair and Harry smiled- they could meld together like this- almost into one person and never, ever be parted again. Harry gasped back, releasing on a soft cry- was _that_ when it had all began? In the Room of Requirement? Or had it been earlier; or later? Harry felt like he had had a concrete date once, but he didn't know anymore.

Draco was tonguing his spent flesh slowly, idly, an uncertain smirk forming on his features. "What is it, Potter?"

"Nothing," Harry said, and then he asked. "When did you know that you were in love with me?"

Draco looked at Harry levelly but when he saw that Harry was serious he looked into the distance.

"Really," Draco said, slowly, "I don't rightly know. Funny- I thought it had been when you and I had rowed about everything at Grimmauld, but that wasn't when. Maybe it was in the club, when you first kissed me. Is that properly romantic enough for a Gryffindor?"

"Yes," Harry laughed. He was being silly. It didn't matter when, it only mattered that he had Draco now. And that he would have him for keeps. "Let's go into the bedroom and I'll take care of _that_ for you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Charming," Draco paused, looking around the sitting room. "What a disaster- oh well, maybe next Yule you'll get me a house elf."

"Malfoy," Harry growled playfully.

* * *

><p>Harry winced, covering his eyes with his forearm. The morning sunlight was streaming through the window that was directly opposite Draco's bed. Harry looked at the nightstand nearest himself- his wand wasn't there; and all that was there was a cracked vial of lubricant and an oily feather, remnants from a rather interesting night of fun. Harry smiled, looking at Draco's warm body, curled into a pale little ball; Harry was of half the mind to grab Draco's wand and pull down the curtains and then cuddle in closer for the rest of the day and then-<p>

_Right._ Harry had promised he would go to the Weasleys on Boxing Day and take photos.

Harry rose from the bed quietly, but even that slightest movement woke Draco, who, on second glance, looked as though he had been up for a bit of time already.

"You can close the curtains," Draco yawned, stretching his arms above his head and all Harry wanted to do was _stay_. "Also, the pain potion is in the guest bath behind the extra vials of Dreamless Sleep."

"I actually have to go," Harry said, looking down for his other shoe, and his wand. "The Weasleys asked me to come by today, after everything."

Draco stilled as though he had been hit with a curse. "Oh," Draco said, slowly, carefully. "Well, then."

_Great._ Harry thought miserably. His head was pounding and he had left a soft bed with a warm-looking lover to leave behind an annoyed Malfoy. "Are we alright?" Harry tried out hopefully.

"We're fine," Draco answered back, annoyed. "Don't be such a bloody witch. Also, your shoes are in the sitting room, you left that pair here when you were ill."

Harry dressed as quickly as possible and left without going back into Draco's bedroom, since the shower had begun to run in the main bath. As he left, he noticed that the day's _Daily Prophet_ had been left on the dining room table by one of the building's owls. _Malfoy to Potter_ the lurid headline read, despite the hols; _Get Your Act Together, Or Get Out!_

Harry tried to laugh, he really did. Everyone knew that they didn't teach Divination at the Prophet. _Right?_


	29. Author's Note

_A/N: Chapter One of Art of Love, the Sequel, is now up! Please read and Review!_


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